An Unforgettable Happening
This story begins at Bellaire Tower, that tall white beautiful apartment building on top of Russian Hill in San Francisco. I have had an apartment there for 30-some years. One day I mentioned to an older man who also lived there, that my husband Andrzej (pronounced ON-JAY) and I were planning to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary in Paris. He said he had an apartment there in Montmartre, which we could rent. He was very enthusiastic about it, telling me where we could shop, where to have a quick breakfast, etc. I felt very grateful and excited about the trip.
It turned out that he hadn’t been there for a year. He didn’t know that the telephone wasn’t working, some light bulbs were burnt out, and other things unusable. Andrzej and I, who were both impractical, were very upset. But the next day our adult children, Eva and Jan joined us. They got in touch with the Housekeeper and fixed everything. Eva (pronounced Ava) is a film editor and Buddhist teacher, Jan (pronounced Yan) has his own real estate business. At that time, Eva was 47 years old, unmarried. Jan was 43, married with two young sons.
The apartment was well-furnished, very livable, with a view of the famous Cathedral from one window. Big comfortable chairs and rugs in the living room, a big, round mahogany table filling up the dining room. There was a lamp hanging over the dining table. We played “Quadruple Solitaire” there every night. (Solitaire played by four people, all putting cards on the same aces. A very lively game.) Eva usually won. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom. I think Jan slept on the couch. The Master Bedroom was small, dominated by a beautiful antique Canopy Bed. I had never seen such a bed, though I had seen ordinary Canopy Beds. It was relatively narrow for a double bed. The headboard and footboard were carved out of light wood, (I don’t know what kind) and the canopy was green. A very special bed.
The year was 2009. We were both 84 years old, having been born in the same year, 1925, Andrzej in Warsaw, I in NYC. We had lots of fun with our children on this trip to Paris. It was in early October, warm and sunny most of the time.
Our children led us on a 3-hour foot-tour of the Left Bank. I saw places I never would have seen on my own. We had delicious meals, sitting at outdoor cafes. I remember the slim, crispy, French Fries which accompanied almost every meal, and lots of wine. Sometimes Dad was fussing over the food or service as usual, sometimes enjoying himself.
The following day we all woke up early. Dad and I were in our bathrobes in the dining room before breakfast, when someone turned on a transistor radio. The music was blaring and lively. Dad grabbed me and started dancing wildly, hugging me close, kissing me passionately, making as if to bite me. I was laughing my head off (as we used to say,) surprised by this unusual behavior, but obviously enjoying it. Such vigor, such passion in an 84 year old man!
That night we made love passionately in that elegant antique Canopy Bed, as we did in Berkeley in 1958, when we first met.