by Cee, DW
“You can stop asking, ‘hello?’ We’ve already said our hellos.” Still, her head was down when she spoke. She made no eye contact and her pencil worked feverishly.
My declarations made no impact, so I decided to change tactics. “Are you a famous designer? Did you study in Paris? I like that outfit you’re drawing. Who’s it for?”
Bingo! Those were the words to ask. “I’m a struggling not-quite-yet designer. This is part of my portfolio that I’m preparing so I can do post-graduate studies in Paris. My dream is to design clothes for the modern woman.”
“Did you create your outfit? It’s definitely a modern woman creation.”
“Do you think so? My mother thinks it’s horrid. She can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to wear a skirt or a dress, daily.”
“Your beauty, your height, your flawless skin, your clothes—you look like you just stepped off the runway in Paris or Milan. Have you been to either city?”
“I haven’t.” I loved the dreamy look on her face. She looked like an angel. “But, I plan to go there soon.”
“You’ll fit right in, Miss—” I realized I still didn’t know her name. “I’m Jerry Reid.”
“I’m Estelle Cowper.”
“Estelle...Cowper...Reid. Sounds perfect!”
*******
Estelle
Who was this man? He was handsome. He was tall. He was bold. He was charismatic. He was...just my type.
“What do you do, Jerry? I assume you’re a student at Oxford?”
“I’m a med student who desperately wants to drop out and go into business.”
“Why are you in med school, then?”
“Because my parents and grandparents brainwashed me since I was a babe and told me this was the only respectable profession. I bought into their lies.” When he laughed, his eyes crinkled and made a crescent moon. He had the most lovable smile. “What about you?”
“I’m a third-year transfer who hopes to attend fashion school in Paris.”
“How are we going to do this, logistically, Estelle?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “What are we exactly doing?”
“You in Paris. Me in America. That doesn’t make for a good first year of marriage.”
“Why do you keep saying that? You know nothing about me but my name and my one desire.”
“From where I’m sitting, I know you’re going to be my wife. I can feel it in my heart. You’re the one for me. Do you want to come over to my parents’ home for dinner tonight?”
“What?” That was random and impulsive. “Um, no. I don’t wish to go to your parents’ home. That would be highly improper.”
“I want them to meet you. You’d love my mother and she’d love you.”
This conversation was all wrong and yet I couldn’t stop talking to him. “Why would you think so?”
“Because you are what my mother wanted to be back in her era. She wanted an education. She wanted to work. She wanted to be somebody in addition to being a wife and mother.”
“That was bold of her.”
“Believe it or not, she graduated with a degree in medicine, though she couldn’t do anything but be a doctor-mum. She made her own tonics mostly to give away, but also to sell. Secretly, she was supplying many of the apothecaries with her megrim tonics as well as ‘womanly issues’ tonics.”
“Wow. Your mother sounds phenomenal.”
“Until today, she was the most fascinating and beautiful woman.” His flattery was getting him everywhere. I shouldn’t be so taken by a stranger who stopped to talk to me, but I was. “Will you promise me that I can introduce you to my mother one day soon?”
“I don’t think that’s possible when we hardly know one another.” For my mother’s sake, I needed to keep with propriety.
“How about this?” he suggested. “There’s a Monet exhibit at the museum. Can I interest you in a morning with Monet and an afternoon tea with me? We’ll work up to the parents. We’ll eventually all have to meet to make wedding plans.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his ardor and enthusiasm.
“All right, Jerry. I guess you’re an impressionist lover like I am? Which artist is your favorite? Mine has to be a toss-up between Monet and Van Gogh!”
He had a funny look on his face, and didn’t answer my questions.
“I’ll pick you up at your residence?” he asked.
“How about we meet at the museum? Then, if I don’t like you, I can leave on my own accord,” I kidded.
What I’d said made the two of us laugh heartily. He was even more handsome when he was happy. “That’s a date, Estelle Cowper...Reid. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow,” I answered shaking my head.
Unexpectedly, I was looking forward to the weekend. What a rush it was to meet Jerry Reid—my future husband?
*******
Jerry
Damn. I hadn’t been this nervous getting dressed—ever! Like a girl at her coming-out party, I dressed, undressed, and dressed again. This first date was going to be the start of our forever. This girl was a dream come true.
“Hey man, let’s go study,” my roommate barged into my space and insisted.
“No can do, Reginald. I have a date with my future bride.”
“Who, may I ask, is your future bride?” Reggie only had to take a split-second look at my wide grin before yelling, “No damn way! You asked that girl out?—the one on the steps?”
“I did, and we have a date with Monet this morning.”
Reggie went into a fit of laughter. “You don’t know a damn thing about art, my friend. Is it Monet or Manet’s exhibit you’ll be visiting?” he asked with much doubt.
“Monet!” I answered confidently.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I swore. “Who the hell is Manet, anyway? I know you’re lying to me about this Monet and Manet business. Don’t confuse me anymore, Chap. I’ve studied more art than I ever cared to know.”
“Study? When did you ever study art?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I punched my friend in the arm. “I hardly slept last night because there were so many damn impressionists I needed to memorize.”
“This girl must be legit if you’re studying art just for her.”
“I told you. She’s my future bride.”
“Whatever. Just get your Monet and Manet facts straight.”
Shite. Now, why’d Reggie have to come and confuse me? I needed to stop worrying about my outfit and go back to studying.
*******
Estelle
I didn’t know what I was doing. Rather than finishing up my portfolio, I was walking to the museum with great expectations for a fun day.
We’d just met, but I found Jerry striking. He made me want to believe that I was to be his wife.
“Hello, Gorgeous.”
“Hello, Jerry.”
“That has to be the most attractive pantsuit I’ve ever seen on a man or woman.”
I giggled. “You have a way with words, Mr. Reid.”
“I’m not kidding. That outfit is perfect on a woman of your stature. But, only you and your good looks could pull this off. Brava!”
“Thank you, Jerry. You know the right words to my heart.”
With those words, Jerry leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Gorgeous. Very soon, I think you’ll have my entire heart.” I didn’t know what to say. “Let’s go in and enjoy the day.” He spoke for me.
I was like a girl in a candy shop running from painting to painting and coming back to all my favorites.
“This is so wonderful,” I exclaimed. “Monet was a genius with his brushstrokes. It’d be lovely to see Monet’s actual garden that inspired him to paint all these masterpieces.”
“Maybe one day, it’ll be open for viewing Estelle, and we’ll be on that Japanese bridge showing our love to one another—just like this.” Without warning, he pulled me in as close as two people could
be and locked his lips onto mine. At first, of course, I pushed him away. It wasn’t proper for any unmarried girl to be kissing a man. What was even more scandalous was the fact that we were out in public.
What was it with men and stealing kisses? Jerry’s tactics reminded me too much of Harry. It was about what he wanted. As attracted as I was to him, I didn’t want another man to push me into his timetable.
“We have to stop,” I whispered when he finally allowed me to breathe. “This is highly improper.”
“I can’t say that I’m sorry, but I’ll stop. It wasn’t my intention to kiss you but when you looked at me with those big blue eyes, I couldn’t help it. Can’t you see us on that bridge in ten, twenty, fifty years, passionately loving one another? Without a doubt, it’s going to happen, Estelle.” He was so sure of himself.
Truth be told, I could see it too, but I wasn’t going to agree—not yet. After what happened with Harry Bennington, men scared me. I couldn’t say I completely trusted them.
“Can we leave?”
“What? Already? Don’t you want to talk about Monet? He was born in 1840 and would be considered the founder of French Impressionism—”
I stopped him before he got much further. “I need to go, Jerry. Maybe I’ll see you at school again.” With those words, I left the museum.
“Stop! Wait! Estelle. I’m sorry!” I wasn’t interested in hearing his apologies. I just wanted to go back to my dormitory and finish my work. “Are you upset because I kissed you?” He followed me regardless of what I told him.
“There’s a large amount of work waiting for me, Jerry. After I finish, I might have some time to meet with you again. Until then, could you leave me alone?”
“No. I can’t leave you alone. Please, Estelle. Talk to me. Where did I go wrong?”
“Not now, Jerry. I really do have work to do. Please don’t follow me!” The last wasn’t a request. It was a command and surprisingly, Jerry stopped dead in the street and let me go.
*******
Jerry
Shite. What the hell happened? How did this day go so wrong?
I wanted to follow Estelle, but I also didn’t want to upset her any further.
Was it the kiss? I didn’t think so as she returned it in her own innocent way. Whatever I did, it upset her badly enough to ask me to stop contacting her. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, but I’d rethink my strategy.
“Father. Mother. What brings you to campus?” What a surprise to find them in my flat.
“Hello, Jerry. Can’t a mum come and see how her son is doing?”
“She can, but it’s usually not done without any notice.”
“Son.” My father warned.
“I’m sorry. I’ve had a not so good afternoon, Mum. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“What’s the matter?”
It was unwise to share my good news concerning Estelle, but I really wanted Mother to meet her. The two ladies had much in common.
“Yesterday, I met my future wife and we had our first date today. It started well, but a few hours into it, she left me. I’m a little unsure what happened.”
“A girl?” That wasn’t good the way Mum said it.
“A girl!” That was definitely good the way Father said it. “Tell us about her. You already know she’s going to be your mate? That’s mighty fine work, Son. How old is she?”
Mother stayed quiet—not good at all. “She’s a junior at the uni and she’s a designer. Right now, she’s preparing a portfolio to send off to a graduate program in Paris. You should see all the clothes she designs and makes herself. Today, she wore this pantsuit that only she could pull off. She’s tall. She has jet-black hair and her eyes are the bluest you’ll ever see. It’s quite an odd combination for an English gal.”
Dad held back his laughter before saying, “That’s quite a descriptive mouthful, Son. When can we meet her?”
“Do you want to meet her?” I asked Mum.
“Will she keep you from studying for your medical degree?” I knew that’s what she was worried about all this time.
“Concerning that...I was hoping to talk to you about my studies.”
Mum’s face contorted in an ugly way. “What about your studies?” she asked menacingly.
“I don’t think med school is for me. Business school is more to my taste. I have so many businesses I want to start. If you’ll help me with a little capital, I’ll pay you back ten-fold.”
“We don’t want your money, Jerry. You need to stop with this dreaming. You’re too old to be wondering what you’d like to be when you grow up. You’re a grown-up now and your career has been decided.”
“But Mum—”
She cut me off. “No buts, Jerry. This conversation is over. If this girl is the one keeping you from finishing your degree, then we’re opposed to her.”
“Dad?” I hoped he’d show some support.
I should have known better. “Sorry, Son. I’m in agreement with your mother. We want you to finish med school first, and then worry about the future. If this girl is truly the one, she will still be there when you’ve graduated. In the meanwhile, I would love to meet her if she’s nearby.”
“Father...”
This was a losing battle. Business school was a lost conversation. I needed to stop talking before they turned on Estelle as well.
*******
Estelle
“Mother. Father. What brings you to Oxford?”
“We take it you’re not happy to see us?”
“Of course I am, Mum. I’m always glad to see you. What kind of daughter would I be if I weren’t?”
“The kind who writes weekly and keeps us apprised of what our only child is doing with her life.” Father would always be my champion. “How are you doing, Daughter?” I walked into his open arms and gave him a hug.
“I’m...all right, I think.”
“What’s the matter?” Dad inquired.
“Well...” I hoped my parents would receive what I had to say with an open mind and a receptive heart. “First, I want to tell you that preparations for Paris are going well.”
“Estelle!” Mum hated the idea of me leaving our beloved English soil. “Are you still on this? I thought if we’d let you attend Oxford and gave you the freedom away from home you so craved, it would be done. You need to stop and get married.”
“Well...that was my next topic of conversation.”
Mum broke into a great smile. “You’ve chosen to be Harry’s duchess?”
“What?” Where did Harry fit into this conversation?
“Mum. I haven’t spoken with Harry since we were up in Fife years ago.”
“You stubborn child!” Mum’s frustration was evident in the tone of her voice. “Why didn’t you accept his suit either time? He offered to let you study. He offered to take you to Paris and pursue this silly dream of yours. He’s offered you the world—a promise he can deliver. Why wouldn’t you accept this world handed to you on a golden platter and live life to its fullest? Why suffer by living in these small, dingy dormitories? You could be living like a queen!”
“Mum...” This deflating conversation was not helping my cause. “Harry and I haven’t spoken since Fife. He’s ignored me every time we’ve run into one another and rumors are rife that he’s chosen his duchess.”
“Ignorant child! YOU are the girl he’s chosen. I spoke with Her Grace and she says he’s still in love with YOU! He won’t meet any other girl. He’ll hardly speak with any other girl because of YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“Sweetheart. Let’s not pressure our daughter. She’s happy without Harry. She doesn’t need to be a duchess and live the life of a princess. If she wants to struggle with some common man, that’s her choice to make.”
“Father...” I bemoaned.
Dad grinned like a man guilty of stealing the last teacake and announced, “Why don’t we go out to dinner? I’d love a thick prime rib
and Yorkshire pudding. What about you, Dear?”
Mum was still staring at me, expectant of an answer.
“I’ve met a man named Jerry Reid,” I announced. “He’s a medical student at Oxford and he says he wants to marry me.”
That was the last of our conversation on anybody named Jerry. Dad forced us to call a truce and fed us dinner before he and Mum left for London.
*******
Jerry
Praise the Lord! After searching all of the Oxford campus for several days, I’d finally found my bride sitting on a different set of steps, drawing furiously.
“Gorgeous!” I called to no answer. She didn’t surprise me nor scare me. She was too engrossed in her portfolio. Being the smart man that I am, I changed tactics and sat right next to her. Kissing the side of her head made her look up immediately. “Hello.”
“Jerry.” I was damn frustrated she gave nothing away when she called out my name. I’d rather have anger than apathy.
“I’ve looked all over campus for you. Were you hiding from me?” Her eyes said yes. Her mouth stayed closed. “Why, Estelle? What did I do wrong during our museum date?”
“Jerry. As you can see, my portfolio isn’t done and it’s due next week. I need to finish if I’m going to apply to fashion school. This is a part of my dream and I can’t lose out on the opportunity by hanging out with you. Please allow me to finish.”
I sighed. “I’ll promise to leave you alone until then if you’ll promise to meet me for lunch the day after your send off your portfolio.” I wouldn’t back down. She was my future.
“All right.” Her sigh matched mine.
“Where am I to meet you? Date. Time. Location. Shall I decide or do you want to tell me?”
“You decide and I’ll be there, Jerry. But,” I was about to get really happy until she stated those contrary words, “you might not like what I have to say. I’ll meet with you only if you promise to accept everything I have to say about you and me.”
“Nope. I don’t accept. Meet me on Saturday at the museum café at noon. Since Monet is the only man who puts a smile on your face, maybe I need to soak up his vibe and learn from him.”
