Under the Popeye Rose

by Corey Deitz

  Ford smiled and laughed when two street performers, dressed as mimes, commandeered a street corner and with no inhibitions began to play out a sketch. The action quickly drew in passersby who wanted to watch. Ford, wisely, moved his wallet from his back pocket to the front so as not to be more susceptible to any street urchins with sticky fingers who might take advantage of a tourist becoming occupied and unaware. As lovely as Paris was, he also knew it was unforgiving. He could not afford to be victimized.

  After a few minutes of watching the painted faces Ford continued his walk up Montorgueil to reach Rue Marie Stuart. Every step was a joy and he kept congratulating himself for having the balls to actually go through with his plan.

  It worked.

  It really did.

  Certainly, he wasn’t an international jewel thief – sure, that would have been sexier. But, he definitely was not a man to be trifled with when it came to gathering monetary resources at the expense of the dolts who process credit cards.

  It was a fantastic feeling.

  Ford was having the time of his life.

  Do you remember the best day of your life? I’m betting you do. Considering all the days a normal lifespan grants us, isn’t it funny how most of us can single out one day from thousands which we attach a special significance to? What makes that great day so great? For each one of us, it’s different. It depends on what our values are, what our needs are, and how we weigh what’s important to us.

  The greatest day of your life is like a viral video.

  We may not know why it’s so wonderful. We may not even know why it’s so meaningful. But, what we do know is it is perfect. It is perfect in all our expectations – and this was the perfect day for Ford Fallon.

  Ford walked up Rue Montorgueil at a steady and deliberate pace and casually observed the shops, the people, the cafes, and all the street life in its native state. He was soon approaching the Marie Stuart Restaurant with its iconic red tables and chairs congregated on the street in front of the establishment. Then, between the restaurant and the Parapharmacy was a single doorway.

  49 Rue Montorgueil.

  Ford’s eyes looked above the ornate entryway and there, between the top of the doorway and a second story window, was the Popeye Rose. It looked just like the Australian’s photo and it didn’t look any worse for wear. The artwork was framed against the stone of the building and overlooked the street’s activity with a quiet presence.

  Ford positioned himself underneath it and looked out into the street. Now, he would wait to see if Dark Desires actually showed. As the pedestrians walked up and down, busy in their conversations, holding hands or just accompanying each other, he played a little game trying to pick out who she might be. Soon it seemed like he had been standing there for longer than he really had. Sometimes, anticipation makes waiting seem terminal. Finally, a young woman emerged from the stream of sightseers and locals.

  “Ford? Are you Ford” she asked.

  Ford’s heart suddenly raced. There was a butterfly in his stomach. He turned to see the face that had come out of his blind spot.

  “Yes! I’m Ford,” he replied excitedly.

  “Well, I’m Dark Desires,” she said, smiling.

  They both stood there for a moment and then it seemed best to hug. Ford wrapped his arms around her awkwardly – while holding the gifts he had purchased. They embraced as two good friends would. A moment of silence passed as they both smiled at each other.

  “What do you think of the Popeye Rose?” he asked, as if he were making a formal introduction.

  “Well, it’s right where you said it would be,” she replied.

  “I like it,” she added a moment later.

  “Why don’t we sit down here,” said Ford, pointing to a nearby table to his right at the Marie Stuart Restaurant.

  “Yes, that would be great,” agreed Dark Desires. “I walked quite a way from where the Metro left me.”

  Ford reached out a hand to gesture toward a seat then realized he was still holding the gift boxes.

  “These are for you,” he said as he sat down to join her.

  He laid the flower and jewelry boxes down in the middle of the table.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Just some welcome gifts,” he explained.

  He suddenly felt a need to downplay the overture.

  “It’s just because you’re a friend and you came all this way to meet me,” he said. “I really appreciate that.”

  “I wanted to,” she said.

  “Then, open them!” he pleaded. “I want to find out if I made some good choices.”

  Just then, a waitress walked up to the small, circular table for two.

  “Bonjour Monsieur and Madame.”

  “Hello,” smiled Ford.

  The waitress immediately changed to English. Luckily, more Europeans than Americans are bilingual – even multilingual. Plus, English is the language of business, especially in tourist areas. It is not uncommon to be able to move through much of Paris aided by mostly English and the tiniest amount of French.

  “What can I get for you today,” she asked.

  A blank look came over Ford. He often suffered from menu-fright. He could read a menu forty times and still not be able to make up his mind. Dark Desires, sensing his hesitation, jumped in.

  “I’ll order for the both of us. Deux cafes et deux croissants,” she said.

  “La crème?” asked the server.

  “Oui,” she replied

  “Tres bien, Merci,” said the waitress.

  “Merci.”

  The waitress turned and walked back into the restaurant.

  “You know French?” said Ford, rather impressed.

  “Not really. Just enough not to insult the help,” she said. “They always speak English at restaurants in Paris but, you might get better service if they see you’re at least trying to communicate with them in their own language.”

  “Got it,” said Ford. “So, go ahead: open your stuff!”

  Dark Desires picked up the smaller box and eyed it for a moment. She turned it in her hand then saw the name Cartiers. Her smile slowly receded as her eyes opened slightly wider.

  “What did you do?” she asked, almost in a panic.

  “What do you mean?” said Ford.

  “Cartier? What is this? This is a joke, right? You put a rubber spider from Chuck E. Cheese in an expensive jewelry box, right?”

  Dark Desires knew anything from Cartiers was going to be expensive – even just a box. Ford said nothing and just held a stoic gaze.

  “Just open it,” he asked again.

  So she did.

  And inside was a 24k gold bracelet that featured extremely petite filigree workmanship which was complicated yet obviously done by a consummate artisan.

  “This is not a rubber spider,” said Dark Desires with a certain shock in her voice. “How can I accept this?”

  “By just not giving it back,” said Ford.

  “What did you spend on this? It must be worth thousands of dollars,” she said.

  “Well, it is. But, it’s not a problem. Really. Just hold on to it for now and I’ll explain everything in a little while. Anyway: I’m having a pretty good time on this side of the table so don’t ruin it, okay? Just roll with it for a bit.”

  “I’m going to put this back in the box and set it down right in between both of us. That way if you change your mind, you can just reach out and take it back,” she said.

  “I’m not going to change my mind,” insisted Ford. “Open the other box.”

  Dark Desires suspected whatever the other gift was would be much less expensive since it was obvious from the type of box, the weight, and the sound of it that it held flowers of some kind. She popped the lid off and pulled out a bouquet of blue roses.

  “They’re beautiful,” she remarked. “Just beautiful.”

  “They’re not real blue roses because, you know, blue roses don’t really exist. But, florists will dye white
roses blue so people can enjoy the idea of it.”

  “What idea is that?” she asked.

  “The idea that you can possess something that is not really obtainable,” said Ford. “A poor man wants wealth he cannot possess. A sick man wants health he cannot have. What we can’t own, we substitute with the next best thing. The poor man may get a Christmas bonus but, he’ll never be rich. Fine, he’ll take the extra money. The sick man may get two more years of life through medicine instead of a cure. Fine, he’ll take what he can get because life is precious. The world may not have blue roses but, if we lie a little to ourselves then, we can settle for a facsimile and enjoy it,”

  “In other words, ignore the man behind the curtain changing the identity of the flowers with blue dye!” added Dark Desires.

  “Exactly,” agreed Ford. “There’s nothing wrong with small lie if it doesn’t hurt anyone. And that’s why florists create blue roses.”

  “They’re very special,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Did you know in literature, blue roses are a symbol of love and prosperity?” said Ford. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not some school kid saying I’m in love with you. But, I love the idea that you were willing to spend some time with me. And, I have had a little prosperity in my life as of late.”

  “Really?” asked Dark Desires.

  “Yes, I have,” said Ford. “So, you can take the bracelet from the middle of the table and put it on because it’s paid for and I’m not one for returning purchases.”

  Dark Desires placed the blue roses down, reached for the Cartier box and took out the gift. She carefully allowed it to wrap around her wrist and then locked the clasp tightly with her fingers.

  “It looks good on you,” said Ford.

  “Thank you. Thank you for the roses, too,” she replied.

  By now the waitress had returned with the coffees and croissants. The couple sat and talked through the late day’s breeze as Montorgueil quietly blended from afternoon into evening.

  Chapter 10

  “So, where did you get the money for this stuff?” bluntly demanded Dark Desires. “And don’t lie to me because I’ll know it.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you,” replied Ford. “I want to tell you but, not here. There’s a restaurant called Au Chien Qui Fume. It means The Smoking Dog and it’s not far from here. Let’s walk over and I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “The Smoking Dog?” smiled Dark Desires.

  “Yes. Really. Great name, huh?” said Ford. “I have a reason for wanting to go there and you’ll understand by the time we sit down.”

  Ford motioned to the waitress for the check. She came over holding a portable credit card processor. In Europe, it is standard in many places for the server to process your bill right at your table. Ford opened his wallet and when he did, Dark Desires spied more credit cards than she had ever seen one person have. He ran his fingers quick across several and then flipped one out and gave it to the waitress. She ran it and in a matter of moments he added a gratuity, signed, and was done.

  “Here is your receipt, Monsieur,” offered the waitress.

  “No need, thanks,” answered Ford.

  He looked across the table and nodded his head to the right.

  “Let’s go,” he smiled.

  Ford seemed to exude a certain amount of confidence about things Dark Desires hadn’t picked up on during their online interactions. He knew places to meet; he knew restaurants to go to. His manner was not timid or hesitant, especially for someone who had not traveled. Rather, he appeared to be a man with a plan.

  It’s amazing what a little money in your pocket and Google Earth can do for you. Ford actually was good at following through on things – when he wanted to. Prior to leaving on his trip, he spent a great deal of time studying where he wanted to go in Paris and the best ways to navigate the city. This translated easily into a sexy kind of self-assurance.

  She liked it.

  By now the evening was full upon Paris and the day’s heat was giving over to the evening’s chill. When they came to the first major intersection, Ford gently slipped the fingers on his right hand into Dark Desire’s left hand.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he smiled.

  It was the best excuse he could think of to move to the hand-holding stage. She was happy he did. Though both had known each other for months online, the virtual world is often a lot easier to navigate than the real one. Social media, messaging, chatting, FaceTime, Skype, email, texting – it all conveniently allows one to hide the parts of themselves they are least comfortable with. In this instance, both appeared to be exactly who the other expected, with no disappointment.

  Well, almost exactly.

  Dark Desires’ personality was a lot softer in person than how she posed herself. Online, she came across a little more insensitive than she really was. And to her, Ford was a bit more masculine then she had expected. Chalk it up to the virtual world’s inability to stream a person’s aura, if you believe in that sort of thing. There’s no doubt we all radiate a sense of self that has to be experienced in person, close up. That was the missing link which neither had experienced until meeting under the Popeye Rose.

  There could be no other way to feel each other’s full self without the advantage of being invited into each other’s personal space. And allowing one to hold your hand is an invitation into that special realm. When Ford’s fingers interlocked with hers, the first physical connection brought a subtle smile to both partner’s lips.

  Dark Desires was glad she had chosen to come to Paris and Ford was glad to be with her.

  * * *

  One could make the case that hand-holding might be the most important physical aspect of a relationship. When a couple’s fingers fit together correctly, it’s almost coital. More than that, it’s a way of joining together that is so simple, yet so powerful. Two people walking down the street holding hands is a commanding image. It is a statement, actually. When fingers are locked and mesh seamlessly, it signals a special understanding.

  Their hands fit well together. Some hands do not. And, if you are ever in a relationship where you have doubts, look to the hand-holding. If it doesn’t feel right, then maybe you’re just with the wrong person.

  “So, a funny thing happened one day when the mail arrived,” began Ford.

  And with that he began to relate how his dog, Kitty, had mistakenly received a Visa in the mail. He further documented how the dismay for his life in Kunkle pushed him - out of frustration - to develop the scheme which found him committing postal fraud, mail fraud, credit card fraud, and identity theft. He did not attempt to rationalize his transgressions as clever or even forgivable because he was more honest than that. He also knew Dark Desires would see through a weak-assed apologetic explanation. No, he was pretty straight with her and owned his felonious actions. At one point he even had her laughing at how easy it really was to amass so many credit cards simply by fucking with the mailboxes in a rich neighborhood.

  “Thank you 1%,” she laughed.

  “I know. It’s ridiculous, right?” he replied.

  As for Dark Desires, she was certainly surprised to hear the full story but, had already suspected something was up from the moment Ford said he was coming to France. She knew he was earning a convenience store clerk’s salary and thought it was highly suspicious that he could just jump on a plane and fly overseas. Then, the cost of the gifts he gave her at the Marie Stuart Restaurant were the second clue that things were not as they seemed.

  So, when Ford did disclose his newly-minted criminal background to her, there was no shock. She was fully expecting at least one more shoe to drop. She just didn’t know it would be a Louis Vuitton. It was almost a relief to know exactly what was going on with him.

  By the time they were about to cross Rue du Pont Neuf into Au Chien Qui Fume, she knew everything – well, almost everything - except for that one last detail about killing himself when his cash cow ran out of milk.

  They
were quickly seated and their waiters (you get several) were fast to service their needs. The first thing Ford did was point to expensive champagne on the spirits menu. When the vintage arrived nestled in a bucket of ice, the waiter poured a sample into his glass and allowed him to taste it. Ford smiled and the waiter then poured three-quarters of a glass for each before slipping the bottle back into its chilled station.

  Ford lifted his hand up in a toast.

  “To Kitty, my wonderful dog who without her, none of this would have been possible,” he exclaimed.

  Dark Desires smiled and touched her glass to Ford’s.

  “I picked this restaurant specifically in her honor,” he said.

  “I think she would have liked the entire theme,” she added.

  The Smoking Dog is indeed, unique, in its mealtime atmosphere with paintings depicting both dogs as canines and dogs in human-like activities. Bare spaces are filled with busts and statues of various breeds, from porcelain to marble. It’s a whimsical place to please your palate and it provided a perfect backdrop for one’s first dinner in Paris.

  Ford and Dark Desires drank and chatted while waiters came and went, bringing appetizers, entrees, and finally deserts. The French cuisine was delightful and the company was inviting. Both were getting along famously. Finally, at the end of their meal, Ford prepared to disclose the one aspect of his plan which he had been withholding.

  “So, here’s the thing,” he began. “I’ve given this a lot of thought and I know that my scheme has a short shelf life. Maybe, I have three weeks – if I juggle my cards just right – before I either run up my limits or the law runs into me. Even if I don’t get caught right away, I will run out of money. I will be past broke and I also know it will eventually catch up to me. If you drive in the fast lane you increase your chances of something going wrong. I’ve already accepted that. It’s a price I’m okay paying because I had nothing before going on with my life that mattered worth a shit. This ends two ways: I either go to prison or I die before they can lock me away. I’ve decided I’m not going to prison. I’ve already been in a prison. That’s what my life was in Kunkle.”