Page 92 of The Leaves In Autumn
“Think I’ll fly the plane from here,” he says sitting on the back, stretching legs to pedals.
“You’re a pilot then?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I have at least twenty minutes experience under my belt.”
“That should be enough.”
“Here we go. I just got clearance from the tower.”
As I’m laughing, he starts to pedal. Then me. It is a messed-up journey forward. Stop and start. Jerky. We almost tip over! He starts laughing too.
“We can be gooney!” I say.
“I like that about us. Okay now, we’re almost there.”
He cups his hand over his mouth and pretends to make an official announcement. With a French accent.
“Bonjour! This is your Captain speaking. It has been a great pleasure serving you. Oui, oui. We have arrived in Paris.”
“How exciting! The time flew.”
He gets out easier than he got in.
I lift arms in the air.
“Help me. Think I may be stuck.”
He comes around and gets me upright by lifting me from under my arms. We start laughing at the absurd scene. I have to unravel my legs like a spider who has curled up. Wish I had a video of this. Ah, terra firma. I straighten my dress and he watches.
“You look very pretty.”
“Thank you. It’s an autumn theme.”
“I see that. Come on, Paris is waiting.”
He takes my hand and leads me across the driveway, onto the simple, slate patio with three black huge pots holding Japanese maples. Now into the family sized tent. What a surprise. I didn’t expect to be able to stand or to find a sidewalk café inside.
“Oh! This is beautiful, Aargon. How creative. I love it.”
He’s happy here, like me. The “outdoor” bistro is made of two director’s chairs around an upside down planter. A square of glass is tabletop. Two crystal flutes. Champagne! The walls of the tent are white sheet drawings of a Parisian setting. The Eiffel Tower, a blown-up photograph, is pinned to the side.
I see him reach for his phone and the music starts. A dreamy French ballad.
“This is my French Café playlist. Sit.”
“Who is this singing?”
“Her name’s Melody Gardot. She’s one of my favorites. Would you like some champagne to celebrate the occasion?”
“Absolutely.”
Golden bubbles sparkle in the glass.
“Have you noticed; the leaves are turning colors in the park? Look.”
I point to the row of sheet trees, and he plays along with me.
“I like the red ones best.”
