How We First Met - Girlfriend Tales

It was the summer of my Junior year when I visited my aunt in Paris. Of course, she's old and doesn't do anything much but stay in her Paris apartment. I on the other hand wanted to do more than find croissants and look at the Eiffel Tower. I wanted to experience the streets of jazz and maybe find some friends along the way.

Being on the old and thin back streets of Paris didn't feel possible. Oh, I am certain this was where fashion was happening. Even now, I found a bookstore instead, because for a moment there I felt as if I knew of those ghostly tales over the decades. Paris wasn't always a happy place.

However, it was French to me, the bookstore. Naturally, I ogled the beautiful pastries that were so intoxicating.

"You'd think it was a bakery," someone said behind me. I nodded. When I turned I saw that the girl was about my age with a sketch pad. She looked a little withered. But I didn't ask what she was up to. "Come on," she said to me. "I'll find us something cool to drink."

So I followed. I learned her name was Steph and she knew these streets quite well.

"I'm not really an artist yet, but maybe someday," Steph said she liked drawing the street life. "You know, real people."

Of course, I didn't know much about art other than a doodle here or there. She asked me what I liked to do and why I was there. I did my best to explain how I had had two years of French and was even in a French play where I played a French maid and got an award for my efforts back in Iowa. 

"But it hasn't done me much good here," I shrugged. My acting partner was a bit slow when he spoke French. To these Parisianers I must sound like a hick.

"I bet that fellow liked, you," Steph laughed at my stories about Dallas.

"I don't think so," I shook my head. "Besides I know him so well that I wouldn't dare date him."

Of course, she knew those guys where we were going. We even got a free treat and it was delightful. Perfect ice cream coffee on a warm afternoon. Steph was a traveler. She was fluent in French and Italian. 

We went thrifting afterward and the places she knew were so enchanting, like secret treasures in the city. Oh, if I could go back, I might buy more than a scarf now.  We never did get around to going out to listen to real French jazz. Maybe someday.

After all, we became penpals.