Finding Rene

"Bill, I'm so sorry about my mother."

"Think nothing of it, Laura, she really means only the best for you."

"Of course I know that, it's just the way she goes about it that frustrates me to no end. I'll find myself a room."

"Nonsense!"

"Bill..."

"Laura, the apartment that I rented has two bedrooms. I'm not going to take advantage of you. I promise I will be a perfect gentleman. I've a car parked a few blocks down that way," I said pointing, I hoped in the correct direction. "Tomorrow I'll drive you to wherever you need to go, I'm sure it's not far." I knew that meant that I'd miss my flight, but what the heck, I didn't care. Then I added, "Laura, really... it's all my fault."

"No it's not; it's my mother's. It's just her being her."

"Yeah, but I wound up the whole situation."

She gazed at me. I couldn't read what she was thinking.

"Nevertheless, you're staying at the apartment and I'm driving you in the morning." I held up my hand, "Scout's honour, I'll be a good boy. I'll even swear on a Wycliffe bible."

Laura smiled at me with a hesitant look in her face, "Bill, are you certain?"

I was and that was my fucking problem. Now that I'd promised her, assured her that I'd be a perfect fucking boy scout/gentleman, I knew I couldn't go back on my word. Why didn't I have the balls to be an asshole sometimes? I had the perfect situation with a sexy little woman and I just pledged that I wouldn't take advantage of her. What an idiot I can be.

"Laura, it may not seem so to you, but I'm having a wonderful time with you, a real adventure." With that I pulled out the little collapsing handle from her black flight bag suitcase and held out my other hand to her, "Laura, first we're going to check you and this bag into the Hotel Bill Wycliffe on Moerstraat, and then you and I are going on a pub crawl indulging in Belgian ales and beer. How does that sound?"

Laura broke into a wide grin and she reached for my hand, "Sounds ideal." She laced her fingers through mine and smiled up to me. My heart melted. Off we went, crossing the bridge over the canal, back into the inner city. Her little black overnight bag with its little wheels bounced haphazardly over the cobblestones, in my other hand I held Laura's slender hand, fingers entwined.

In reality I couldn't be happier. Fuck the flight tomorrow. The gods were smiling on me. I wished I hadn't blown my chances of getting laid by promising to be a gentleman. I knew I wouldn't push myself onto her, just as I told her, but there we were, walking hand in hand. I was grinning to myself. It was fun. I knew I'd be having a riot with her.

"My mother really is wicked isn't she?" Laura said as we walked along.

I stopped and turned to her. "No she's not. She's wonderful. Laura, I'm genuinely looking forward to this evening."

"So am I," she smiled. She said that sincerely.

"See your mother's not wicked at all is she? Clever and devious, yes, I grant you that, but wicked? No way."

The cobblestone streets and the architecture of the houses were enchanting. During the walk to Georgette's car, I'd been too busy following the conversation and following Georgette to pay attention. The doors and windows were all so unique, so quaint. Neat and tidy, too. As I passed by open windows, even if it was a storey up, I could hear the conversations going on inside.

"I love the way this town is preserved," I said to Laura, "it's as if we've stepped back a couple of centuries in time."

She smiled at me, "They really have done an outstanding job, you can tell the locals really take pride in it."

"And it can't be cheap to do either," I added, "think about it for a moment. Every time a telephone line or a cable TV or a water line or gas line gets run down this street, they have to lift up the cobblestones and then carefully lay them all back down."

"It's worth it," she commented.

"Did you notice how the sound bounces around? I can hear every conversation going on in every house."

"Yes, and I'm sure they can hear us, too."

"It's strange isn't it, because the traffic within the inner town is so sparse, there isn't the background noise. The din."

"Just like centuries ago, I suppose."

"I guess," I said, and then added, "but that's not the only thing preserved about this place."

She had a quizzical look on her face.

"Did you catch the odd whiff of raw sewage every now and again?"

"Yes," she smiled, "very old Europe."

After a few blocks we made it to my rented apartment. We walked up a narrow flight of stairs to the main kitchen/sitting area. The apartment certainly wasn't large. The two bedrooms were up a further set of stairs. I'd already slept in one bed. Laura dropped her case off in the other bedroom. She went to the washroom as I made my way back downstairs.

Laura flicked her hair back as she came downstairs. "Okay let's go."

We walked hand in hand with fingers entwined again down the cobblestone street towards the central Markt. We tucked ourselves into an outdoor table at some indistinguishable restaurant. There was an obligatory umbrella overhead festooned with "Peroni'. Two 33cl goblets of an unpronounceable beer were ordered. It was delicious.

So was Laura.

"Bill, I really hope that I'm not putting you out."

"It's my pleasure Laura, but that reminds me," I pulled my cell phone out, "where am I driving you tomorrow?"

"You don't have to, I'm sure there's a bus."

"Are you kidding? I insist." I tapped the icon on my phone to call my secretary. It was still afternoon in Ontario.

"De Panne, it's about forty five minutes south towards Calais."

Although it was Saturday, Annabel, my secretary and office manageress was kind enough to take my call. I asked her to cancel my flight from Brussels scheduled for the next morning. "No don't book any alternate flight back, just yet. Are you okay looking after Mary Shelley for a few more days? Oh, that's great, thanks so much for doing that... Yes, everything's fine. Yes, yes, I signed off." I scratched my head. "Yes, I have the final cheque." I rolled my eyes at Laura and continued, "I'm just being a tourist for a couple of days. Oh, and extend the car rental for a day or two. No, I'm not being vague. Okay bye. Bye, Annabel," I rolled my eyes again." Bye."

"Now I feel bad," Laura said in her lovely British accent, "I really am putting you out."

"Nonsense." I picked up my beer and took a sip. "Although I must admit Annabel, my secretary and self-imposed nanny, will be giving me a thorough grilling when I get back; it's nothing I can't handle."

"A grilling?"

"Yes. It's my firm, I own the company, but Annabel doesn't seem to understand that. She runs the place. Seemingly, I answer to her."

Laura smirked at my admission.

"She's ready to retire, though. Honestly, I don't know what I'll do without her."

"Who's Mary Shelley; do you mind me asking?"

"I live with Mary Shelley," I answered knowing that would get a rise from her.

"You said you were single, didn't have a partner and lived alone." She stammered with a little shock in her face.

"That's correct," I answered, "Mary Shelley is my fifteen year old, not quite purebred boxer that is more or less incontinent and partially blind and deaf."

"Oh," said Laura. She wasn't expecting that explanation.

"She's staying with Annabel, the kennel is just too traumatic for the old hound."

"Mary Shelley, of Frankenstein fame?" Laura had a curious look on her face.

A horse neighed in the distance.

"Yes, she always has been a bit of a monster," I smiled.

She sat looking at me in disbelief for a moment, then changed the subject, "Bill, you said you love Magritte. What is it about his work that you find so compelling?"

"One more call," I held up my finger while scrolling through the phone with the other hand, "I'm sorry, it'll just take a sec."

Laura smiled and took a sip of her beer.

"Betty, it's Bill. I'm fine. Listen I can't make it for dinner tomorrow night. I'll be in Belgium for another day or two. Okay, great, thanks, bye."

"Now I ruined your dinner date," she said.

"Naw... it's not my date, Betty's my sister-in-law. It's our usual Sunday night dinner at my brother's place. Grandma and Grandpa are over and usually Uncle Bill -- moi."

"I really do feel I've imposed on you," she frowned.

"Don't," I waved her off with my hand, "I wasn't too keen on going after the long flight home, anyway."

We both sipped our beer.

"Magritte, you were asking about Magritte."

"Yes." Her eyes lit up. "You said you found his work compelling."

"Mmm," I sipped my beer, "I like modern art, and unlike the abstractionist's work, which is good, too, sorry, good is not the right word. An abstractionist kind of throws onto canvas what is in their mind and asks the question, 'What does it mean to you?' or, 'How does it make you feel?' That's all great. The surrealist, on the other hand, throws at you contradictory conditions of dreams and reality."

I put my glass down. "Think of the dreamscapes Salvador Dali made with his melting clocks and such."

She took a sip, "Yes, very unnerving, his work." Laura wiped the suds from her top lip.

"I agree," I picked up my glass again "Dali wanted to surprise you with his illogical scenes or to try to depict 4D on a 2D canvas. Beautiful, yet unsettling work." I sipped my beer. Damn, it was good beer.

"Go on," said Laura.

I continued the lecture after swallowing, "Magritte, in my view, was much more subtle. He was able to join together objects and scenes out of their usual context, sometimes with shock, sometimes to simply convey mystery or uncertainty. Sometimes he would throw together unrelated objects that when joined, brought a whole new meaning or evinced an emotion. Or he would paint a pipe and write underneath, 'This is not a pipe.'"

"Yes, I know that painting," she said, "It's a brougham pipe with the caption, 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe.'" She chuckled to herself.

"He was right, it's a frikkin' painting. Oil on a canvas. He was always bringing reality or an alternate reality to our senses," I said.

It dawned on me, she knows that painting? There's more to her than meets the eye.

"I didn't get what the meaning of that painting was," Laura said sipping her beer.

"What the one we saw today with the nipples?" I asked, "The Assault?"

She blushed. "Mmm-huh," she mumbled as she swallowed.

Of course. Nipples. Gay. Bi. Whatever.

"Magritte himself," I answered, "said that his paintings have no meaning. Or rather that they mean nothing, because mystery means nothing either and that it is, by definition, unknowable."

We sat in silence for a while. I guess I'd freaked her out a little.

"It was called the Assault. Therefore it must have had some meaning," Laura argued.

Definitely a lawyer. "Okay," I answered. "Was it the woman with the twisted torso and the nice nipples the one that was assaulted? If it was, was that somehow equivalent to the box of sky and clouds? Or is it our senses that are being assaulted? It's a mystery. It means nothing. Would it have been better if he wrote 'This is not an assault'?"

Laura answered, "This conversation is starting to have no meaning."

"Precisely, you are a surrealist at heart," I said smiling to her.

We sat and contemplated each other's faces for a moment. She wasn't Plain Jane at all, she was lovely. I was definitely growing fond of this woman. That wasn't the only thing growing.

"Bill, I want to thank you for something," she said after a few moments.

"Go on then," I leaned forward, puckered my lips for a kiss and closed my eyes.

She kissed me!

"I was joking!" I said.

"I wasn't," she grinned. "Seriously Bill, when you asked my Mum if she embraced an alternate lifestyle, you have no idea how on the spot you put her."

I chuckled to myself.

"How about when I skillfully avoided having you confess your previous alternate lifestyle relationships?"

Her grey eyes pierced into mine.

"Am I that obvious?"

"No, you're not, but what is obvious about you, Laura, is that you don't give yourself the credit you deserve. You are a beautiful and sexy woman." As soon as I said that I realized that she could perceive that as a come on. Why did I say that?

"I'm short and flat chested and I have drab hair that is going grey. Not only that, but when people find out I'm a solicitor, they want nothing to do with me."

"You're a beautiful woman." Now I was trapped because of my big mouth, although it was a sincere statement.

"You've had too much beer, but that's all right. You can drink me pretty tonight. Waiter!" She started waving her arms in the air, "We'll have two more!"

"Haa!" I was laughing too hard to counter. What a crazy woman.

The stupid bells started ringing again.

"What's up with your mom?" I asked over the noise, "is she just homophobic or what? Why does she feel you're so unhappy?" Other people could hear the question.

Laura was a little annoyed at having to speak over the bells, she leaned in a little, "She's just being a mother, I suppose is the correct answer. I don't really believe that she's homophobic." She glanced over to see if other people were listening in on our conversation, "It's just that she doesn't like me spending time and energy and I suppose emotions on other girls. In her mind I should be spending my time, energy and emotions on the business of making babies. Grandchildren for her. And unless I'm doing that, happiness is simply unattainable for a woman."

"Hmmm," I took a sip of beer and then asked, "Isn't there a grain of truth in that?" I paused for a moment before continuing, "Bear in mind I have no kids. I haven't a family."

Other people were listening to our conversation over the bells.

Laura gazed at me with an uncertain eye. "Would that make you happier?" She sipped her beer.

"Maybe. I dunno. Probably." To hell with the people that are listening in. She didn't really answer the question. Maybe it was just me being sexist.

We stared at each other for a moment with the bells ringing in the background.

"Are you unhappy as your mom suggests?"

She paused stone-faced for a moment and then broke out into a wide grin. "Well, I'm certainly happy here with you tonight."

"Oh, that's so sweet," I smiled back, "I'm happy, too." The bells peeled away.

We both grinned at each other and took swigs of our beer. I finished mine. I wished I hadn't pledged to her that I would be a gentleman because I was starting to think I had a reasonable chance of getting lucky tonight. Why did I promise? It would have been the proverbial one night stand. What could be more perfect? I wasn't sure about the whole gay/bi thing though, but yet... I felt that we were connecting on some kooky primal level. I was completely off balance, mentally and emotionally.

"Tell me Laura, when I walked up to you at the gallery you said 'such perfect nipples,' did you know I was standing beside you?"

We both saw the side glances from the table next to ours.

"Yes," she paused before continuing, "you were the only one nearby going through the gallery. My Mum was up ahead."

"You saw me?"

"Yes. How could I not notice such a good looking man?"

I blushed. "Why the nipple comment?"

"Ah, that part I can't explain. I was embarrassed as soon as I said it. I was lost in the moment studying the painting."

"Nipples?" I pressed.

She blushed. "I'm sorry. I like nipples." She smirked at me. Her eyes flashed. "More beer?" The bells were still ringing.

"You're trying to seduce me aren't you?" I was only half joking and I know I was smirking.

She grinned wildly, "Would that be so wrong?" Her eyes bore into mine.

"Not at all! I'm flattered. And you're doing a pretty good job of it, too." I said cursing myself.

We grinned sheepishly at each other for a moment and then I asked her over the noise, "You find me attractive, I thought you were gay?"

"I said bisexual, and yes, you're very attractive."

"Really?" Maybe she was the one drinking me pretty. My brain was completely twisted around.

"How tall are you? You're over six foot."

"Six one."

"You're not balding, you don't have a paunch, your teeth are white and straight, you have a nice jaw line, with just a hint of stubble, dark short hair, and a lovely smile." She leaned into my face, "What colour are your eyes?"

"Hazel."

"They're lovely, and I adore the way the corner of your lip curls and your left eye bugs out a little when you smile. You're tall, dark and handsome."

"And you're crazy," the bells stopped just as I added..."and I like nipples!...too."

Oh.

Everyone turned to look at us.

Laura noticed the sudden attention from the patrons around us and leaned in, "Really? I'm crazy about you, that's for sure. And I may have something you like." She took a big final swig of her beer, pushing her flat chest out a little while smirking the whole time. I could feel myself blushing.

Two more beers arrived.

I certainly wasn't used to being seduced. It didn't take much. That little woman was driving me nuts. It was a completely unique situation for me. I wasn't on a date, trying to build a relationship, or avoid one. There was certainly no guilt on my part. We were both adults, and in a bizarre town, to boot. But, I did promise that I would be a perfect gentleman. However, after beer, wine and more beer I could certainly be just fooling myself though, thinking that she was coming on to me.

All of a sudden I wondered if I was predator or prey. To me, it didn't matter. I just needed to be sure I wasn't being an asshole, reading too much into the whole situation or trying to take advantage of her.

Her grey eyes were like arrows into mine. It was as if my brain was being stabbed. Or scanned maybe. She extended her slim, warm hand and covered mine which was still resting on the stem of my beer glass.

"Bill, am I being too forward with you?" she asked quietly, her eyes betrayed her emotions. Suddenly she did appear unsure of herself.

I watched as her slim manicured fingertips gently bumped along my knuckles. I glanced back up to see that she was gazing into my eyes intensely. How could such a small woman be having such a big impact on me? Physically, almost without touching? I was nearly paralyzed.

"No, you're not, Laura," I answered softly.

She burped.Out loud!

Everyone turned again.

"Oh god I'm sorry!" she blurted out covering her mouth as I immediately burst into laughter. Seeing my reaction Laura started laughing, too.

I couldn't speak for a moment. It was too funny.

After regaining control of myself, I wiped a tear from my eye and said, "That was such a tender moment and such a perfect come-back. Am I being too forward? No you're not. Beeeghh! What? You don't believe me?"

Her shoulders were bouncing up and down. She was gasping for air.

I was clutching my belly almost howling. A tear was rolling down my cheek again. Her head was bobbing up and down in laughter, panting for air.

"You can't believe what a turn-on that is for me Laura. Beeeghh! The seduction's complete now!"

Laura was howling in laughter.

"Your mum would be so proud! Beeeghh!" I gasped out. "Oh! Excuse my Belgian!"

Everyone was definitely staring at us.

Laura had to hold on to the table. Her whole body was convulsing in laughter. Her face was a glistening mess. She was making funny snorting noises.

My ribs started to hurt.

The rest of the patrons and the staff were starting to look annoyed.

We used the little napkins that came with the beers to clean ourselves up. For a few moments we couldn't even look at each other without breaking up again.