THE DATE

She admired the scenery, the soothing evening breeze stroking her hair and relaxing her muscles. No wonder they call it L'île de la paix (Island of Peace) She is excited and nervous, being her first. She has heard from frnds countless stories about bad dates, things to do and things not to do on a first date.

"Bonsoir Madame. Allez-vous passer votre commande maintenant?"

She looked past him to the row of tables under the blue night sky, further down the harbour on the left where the moon and million stars dance on the sea, and finally back at him . Perhaps, she has forgotten the waiter in front of her who is dressed in a white suit, his head slightly bent and holding a pen and paper. He repeated the statement a little louder.

"Oh! No! Sorry, I will wait".

He didn't move. The look on his face showed his confusion. This is a French restaurant not an English owned, his eyes seems to say.

"Oh! Non! Désolé je vais attendre".

He smiled , bowed and walked away.

Her mind drifted at once to the future. She is now married to him and they are taking a picture with their kids at a beautiful island.

A shattering glass awakened her from her daydream. A waitress had missed her steps and slipped. A bottle of Merlot had fallen before it could be rescued together with the glass cups on the tray. You could see the embarrassment on the face of the waitress. She apologized to the couple she came to serve. At once, a pot-belly materialized to the scene, then unleashed verbal bullets at the erring, embarrassed and frightened waitress. She apologized and vanished from the scene. She seemed new on the job but that is not enough excuse for managers who don't take lightly to silly mistakes.

The music seems to come alive at this time. Although it has been playing before now but she didn't seems to notice. She nodded to the music and darted her eyes at every footsteps and figures that materialize into her view. She becomes disappointed each time they turn the other way.

At 8:30, a shadow towers above her, obstructing her view. She traced the shadow to its face. Her breath seems to stop at that instant then her heart pounded in her chest. He smiled at her but she avoided his eyes.

"Bernice?", he asked

'Eric', she responded shyly.

They shook hands. He sat down.

"Sorry, I am late. Needed to attend to some urgent matters".

"Its fine".

'Have you ordered anything yet'.

"No, not yet".

"Fine. By the way, you look beautiful. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen in France".

She glanced at herself as if to make sure what he said was true.

"You dress is lovely too".

She smiled. She chose right. Thanks to her friends who chose the red dress for the date.

"Thanks".

Another waiter came to them.

"Bonsoir, puis-je avoir votre commande maintenant?".

"J'aurai de la bouillabaisse et du merlot. La dame aura ..."

"I will have chicken confit. But what is so special about Merlot? It seems that is the wine everyone is drinking".

Both men laughed. The waiter spoke, this time in English.

"Merlot is one of the finest French wine. It is made from wine grapes. Although there are varieties. It has a beautiful dark-blue colour. Once you taste it, you will notice its softness and freshness. I bet you will love it."

"Thanks for the hype. I can't wait to taste it".

"Coming right away", he said and left.

They ate in silence, their cutlery doing the talking. When they had almost finished the meal, it was time to talk.

"Merlot is sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted", she confessed and took another sip.

"Glad to hear that. So, what brought you to France of all places in the world?"

"I came to experience my birthplace afresh". she said with a smile."

"You don't mean it?".

"Of course I do".

"I could bet you were a Briton than a French woman".

"I am but my mother was French and I was born here."

"Oh, I see. That means you know alot more about France than I do.

"Not really. I was only born here. I didn't grow up here".

"What about you, what are you doing in France?", Her voice was soft but crisp. She studied his face. It was older. Lean, calm and handsome. His lips are red, standing in contrast to his skin colour. His black hair is well groomed. It was glittering. He has a charming smile that can win any woman without his making any effort.

"I am on vacation", he said. I want to explore France like you even though I have done that many times already. Each visit gives me a fresh experience."

"So what you do for a living, Mr Eric."

He smiled, sipped his wine and brought his hands to rest on the table.

"I am a visual artist".

"Really?

"Yes".

"I envy you. At a time I wanted to study art but I realized that I was not too patient so I ended up studying Performing art instead".

"That means I could have seen your face in one of those stage plays".

"No. I don't act. I only write plays".

"Goodness me! Are you the same Bernice Wentworth, the dramatist?".

"Obviously not. I have not had the confidence to put any of my plays to the stage let alone to prints".

"Why? The world is waiting to hear what you have to say!"

"I am not sure what I have to say will interest anyone".

"Never you think like that! Everybody has something to say no matter how stupid it sounds."

"You 're beginning to sound like my father".

"Oh! Really?

"Yes. He literally sat on my neck till I wrote few of those plays but he died soon after.

"Oh! I am sorry to hear that. But how many plays have you written?".

"I have written six and three are yet to be completed".

"Wow!" So, what do you write about in your plays?

"Well, a lot of things. Most importantly, I write about love, hate , revenge and a host of other things. The environment determines what I write".

"Wow! You shouldn't let those ideas go to waste. Look, I have some contacts who can help give your plays a voice and who knows, you could hit fame and make lots of money for your work."

"That sounds like..."

The angry footsteps of a woman arrested everyone's attention. The woman held her skirt with both hands and was almost sprinting. It wasn't clear who she was or what she wanted. But one thing was clear, there was anger in her bearing and that meant trouble. The light revealed her eventually. A much older woman, plumb, with exaggerated makeup that gave her the look of an old witch.

It was too late to melt away or come up with an explanation why he was on a date with another woman.

The attack was first on Bernice. The woman took her glass cup and spattered its content on her face. She then took the bottle of Merlon and drained it like libation on her head.

Tongue-tied, Eric watched the scene, too embarrassed to talk or stop his wife from disgracing date.

They became a spectacle to the sea of eyes enjoying every bit of the show.

"You allowed him deceive you with his looks and a bottle of Merlot?" She held the empty bottle and turned round as though showing it to who cares to know. There was a disapproving look from the audience and a slight murmur.

"Erika, please".

"Will you shut your cheating mouth", she slammed at him when he eventually found his voice and stood up to restrain his wife.

Bernice made to stand up, too ashamed to allow the disgrace go on. She was pushed back.

"I'm not done with you bitch!"

"Erika, that's enough! You 've made your point".

"Not until I tell the whole world how useless and irresponsible you are! And you bitch, my husband is not available for your taking. He is not a bottle of Merlot you can drink. There was a roar of laughter from the onlookers.

"She is innocent", Erika.

He grabbed his wife, giving Bernice the chance to take her leave. Erika struggled to break free but he held her tighter.

"Let go of me, you bastard", she snarled.

There was a bit of a struggle until they both crashed on the table and then to the floor. The glass cups broke likewise the bottle of Merlot; shattering into splinters.

THE END

Glossary

"Bonsoir Madame. Allez-vous passer votre commande maintante?"

"Good evening, Madam. Are you going to place your order now?"

"Bonsoir, puis-je avoir votre commande maintenance"

"Good evening, may I have your orders now?"

"J'aurai  de la bouillabaisse et du Merlot. La dame..."

"I will have bouillabaisse and Merlot. The lady will have...."