The Last Note for Merlot

“Look! I found the last note!” Merlot squeals, giddy with excitement. Nestled under a piece of stained glass in a shop across from Chartres Cathedral, Merlot rushes over and picks up the dark, red envelope.

“That is great, Merlot! Open up the note and see what is inside.” Clarence utters, peering over Merlot’s shoulder. As Merlot opens the envelope, she notices that the front of the note has a picture of a glass of Merlot and neatly sprawled across the front is the word “dimanche”, the word for Sunday in French.

Merlot whispers the note as not to disturb the other customers nearby.

“Today is dimanche (Sunday).

Let’s have a toast to this wonderful day.

I couldn’t be more than happy to have gotten to know you.

Cheers to our first date.”

Merlot quickly turns around and embraces Clarence. Soon after they head towards Les Heureux Restaurant (The Happy Restaurant), a restaurant not far from Chartres Cathedral. As the sun danced with the clouds in the cool August air and the rumble of voices grew louder, Clarence and Merlot emerged from Les Heureux Restaurant (The Happy Restaurant), and decided to eat outside.

“Shoo! Shoo!” Clarence quips, waving away the blackbirds around the place where they wanted to sit. The blackbirds sang as they flew away only to return a few minutes later.

“It’s interesting to see blackbirds because I don't see blackbirds from where I’m from.” Merlot says, sitting down after Clarence removed her chair from the table. Merlot is from Shorewood, Wisconsin, a town not far from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Merlot is also a lawyer, and toured around France. But when she learned of her Grandmother’s death, she traveled to Chartres, France, a quaint, relaxed village not far from Paris, France.

“Wow! Blackbirds are common in France. In particular, these types of blackbirds around us are males. See how they have a deep black color, enriched by the yellow beak and yellowish circles around their eyes? I just love that distinct feature. The plumage and color of the blackbird is how you tell the difference between a male and a female.” Clarence remarks, holding out his finger for a blackbird to perch on it. Clarence lived all of his life in Chartres, France where he is a curator and art gallery assistant at Prieuré Saint Vincent. His father, an art enthusiast, loved to bring Clarence and his two younger siblings to Prieuré Saint Vincent when they were little. The colors of deep purples and bright yellows of the paintings mesmerized Clarence, and ever since then, Clarence knew he wanted to become an art enthusiast just like his father.

Clarence and Merlot enjoy each other’s time for the next two hours before going their separate ways and heading home.

Once to her Grandmother’s home, Merlot places the last note on the kitchen table where the rest of the week’s notes are as well. As she beams at the neatly handwritten notes, she remincines to how she met Clarence and how all of it began.

“This painting captivates the heart. And like blackbirds, there is a longing to be with one person for life. “ an art shower instructs. But Merlot’s vision was skewed because out of the corner of her eye, she saw a gauntly, handsome man, speaking to other visitors. As she walks over to him, she ponders on what she will say.

“So, I was just having an art shower show myself and a group of other people a couple of paintings, but could not help notice the painting of the tree near you.” Merlot entices.

“Well, I did not catch your name.”

“My name is Merlot. “

“Good to meet you. My name is Clarence.”

“Well, Clarence, can you tell me more about this painting near you.”

“Sure. Normally, trees represent life. But here, we have a tree struck by lighting, which charred the tree to a crisp. It can be seen as the end of a life. “

“Wow! Such retrospection in such a painting.” Merlot weeps, pulling a tissue out of her purse to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“This painting reminds me so much of the life my Grandmother lived. She lived a long life just like the tree and was very wise. However, her death was quick like lightning. She died of a sudden heart attack .”

“I’m sorry to hear of her passing. I guess that's why you are here.”

“Yes. Her funeral will be on this Monday, and I will miss her dearly.”

“Say how about we grab a cup of coffee tomorrow. I would love to hear more about how wise your Grandmother was.”

“Sure, that sounds really nice.”

“So we can meet back here on Monday.”

“Great.”

After the funeral, Merlot grabs a cab and heads to Prieuré Saint Vincent, where she meets Clarence.

“Hey, Merlot. I brought you this note.” Inside the dark, red envelope was a note and sketched on the front of the note was a picture of white lilies.

“Thanks for the note” Merlot smiles, opening the note and reading silently.

“Grieving is never easy.

Forever in your heart, will be the love for your Grandmother.

For lundi (Monday) brings full of memories that you will cherish of her.”

“Thanks this is really sweet.”

Heart filled with reassurance, Merlot goes with Clarence inside the coffee shop and talks for a while. Intrigue fills the air as Merlot and Clarence watch a man give balloons to people outside. Afterwards, Clarence goes home and ponders on how he can meet Merlot again, and he calls from the number placed in his phone.

“So I was wondering if you would like to hang out again. I enjoyed our time together. How does Tuesday sound?”

“Well, Tuesday I will be walking my Grandmother’s dog and viewing some of her estate. But Wednesday will work for me, would you like to meet for coffee again or what?”

“On Wednesday, I can only be available in the evening. We have another art exhibit that will last all day."

“Well, that will give me enough time with my Grandmother’s affairs. So I will see you in the evening at seven.”

“That sounds great. See you then.”

“Bye.”

Tapping the phone button off, Clarence wrote a letter for Wednesday where he sketched a picture of a tree on the front of the note. Inside the note Clarence wrote:

“ For a heavy heart is not a simple heart.

I hope today, mercredi (Wednesday), your heart will be filled with hope and happiness.”

As Wednesday dawned, Clarence thought of placing the card where they first met.

“Meet me at the art gallery and on top of the desk will be another note.” Clarence texted.

“Okay.” Merlot texted back.

Dawned in a sparkling yellow top and a pair of black dress pants, Merlot entered the art gallery and searched for the note. After seeing the note on top of the desk, her chest bellowed, holding back tears as she read the card. Finding Clarence in the right hand corner talking with visitors, she excused herself to talk with him.

“So off the bat, I just wanted to let you know I appreciated the note. So what are we going to do this evening?”

“Well, I thought Parc André Gagnon, a park near Chartres Cathedral, is a great place to go to. We can go stargazing. After all, it is a pretty night. I also packed a picnic.”

Placing loaves of Brioche bread on a checkered blanket and a bottle of Burgundy wine on the side, Clarence cleared his throat. Stars near and far twinkled in the sky, as Merlot’s hand began to intertwine with Clarence’s hand and grazed his thigh with her leg.

“You know, I was not so sure about you when we first met, “ Merlot quips, “but you have made these past couple of days special for me."

“When you find someone special, you want to cherish every moment. And with you, since starting to know you, I am careful to cherish every moment."

“Well, isn’t someone Mr. Poet."

“Thanks.”

Clarence leans in, softly touching Merlot’s cheek. Smiling, Merlot leans in and gives Clarence a peak on his cheek.

“Can we meet Friday? “ Clarence glimmers.

“Well, Thursday and Friday will be busy for me. So Sunday will work. That will be my last day here until my Grandmother’s estate is settled. “

“Okay, well Sunday it is.”

Then Clarence and Merlot gather their belongings, and they part.

Clarence arrives home, creating the last note for Merlot. Texting her one last time, he writes, “ Hey, for Sunday, meet me at the stain glass shop near Chartres Cathedral.”

“Alright. See you then.” Merlot texts.

Sunday rolled around and Clarence met Merlot at the stain glass shop.

“I want you to find the next note.”

“Bet I can find it in under five minutes.”

“Yeah, we will see.”

“Look! I found the last note!” Merlot squeals, giddy with excitement. Nestled under a piece of stained glass in a shop across from Chartres Cathedral, Merlot rushes over and picks up the dark, red envelope.

“That is great, Merlot! Open up the note and see what is inside.” Clarence utters, peering over Merlot’s shoulder. As Merlot opens the envelope, she notices that the front of the note has a picture of a glass of Merlot and neatly sprawled across the front is the word “dimanche”, the word for Sunday in French.

Merlot whispers the note as not to disturb the other customers nearby.

“Today is dimanche (Sunday).

Let’s have a toast to this wonderful day.

I couldn’t be more than happy to have gotten to know you.

Cheers to our first date.”