Josephine
Pollo and Poulet
1947, New York City
"Sorry, my English is not very good," he told me ashamedly as we shyly looked at each other across the table.
"It is better than you think," I smiled warmly to him.
His mouth opened slightly in surprise, then he returned the smile looking genuinely touched.
We were seated together in the general dining room of the upscale Blue Rivers restaurant. His suit looked borrowed, too short on him and too large in the shoulders. He was a tall man and very lean. I secretly felt so thankful he was taller than me. This had been a problem for me in the past. Even not wearing heels hadn't solved the problem before, but now I could wear all the heel I wanted. I was so happy. As an added bonus, he made me appear shorter.
His eyes were observing me, which caused me to feel small tickles all over my body as if someone were breezing fuzzy pussywillow branches just past my skin. His eyes were so large with a lot of the whites showing, but in the middles were shiny light brown irises like chocolate pieces. His expression was so nervous but so soft.
I wanted to start a conversation with him, even if he couldn't speak English very well as he said. Because of his English skills, I would keep it light and easy to understand. But I couldn't think of what to say. My brain had turned fuzzy like the pussywillows. I would have gotten frustrated at this, but something about his searching eyes calmed me like a loving magic spell.
"What will you order?" he suddenly asked.
I felt great relief. So he had thought of something to say instead.
"Probably the boeuf bourguignon. What will you order?" I asked.
"It is...ah...it is...how do you say..."
He looked so adorable as he searched for the words, his lovely eyes looking up at the ceiling as if it would answer for him.
"...The bird? It is white many times, it says..." And then he made the clucking noise of a chicken. I had to stifle a giggle in my throat as to not possibly insult him.
"Chicken!" I exclaimed, grinning.
He clapped his hands together once in the moment of comprehension. "Yes! This one! We call it pollo in Puerto Rico. I love this animal."
I laughed now and he laughed with me, and I felt relief in the moment of sharing emotion with him. My heart begged for us to be closer so we could share even more, but unfortunately we had just met that afternoon. It would take too long. I wanted to know him now!
"We call it poulet in France," I said to him, wanting so much for him to speak again.
"Ah, they are sound same almost," he said, his eyes smiling at me in the joy of knowing our languages were similar.
"You know, I wonder how you became a waiter without knowing much English?" I wondered aloud to him. He seemed kind enough that he would not be offended by this. At least I hoped.
"Ah, I learn lines. I say, 'do you need more water', 'how are things going?', 'do you need more time deciding, ma'am?' These things. I say these things many times. It is easy," he explained eagerly.
He was so adorable I couldn't stand it. I wanted to leap over the table and squeeze his cheeks and ask him why he was so cute and take him home with me. And once home, I just wanted to look at him and hear him speak to me. I hungered to just know him, all about him. It was a strange feeling, and one I loved immediately. My heart sighed in the pure need for him.
Instead, I took a sip of water and stared at him as he stared at me. His eyes traveled down to my hands, which I quickly slipped under the table into my lap where they were supposed to be. Out of sight, so no one could see. I blushed.
He paused and looked as if he was about to say something. I looked at him in expectation. He seemed to be hesitating. What did he want to say?
Finally, he unleashed a jumble of confusion first. "You...your...it...can I..."
I tilted my head just slightly to show I had heard him and wanted to know what he was about to say. In response to this, his reservations seemed to fall and he gave me a fresh smile. My heart immediately warmed.
"Your gloves. I want...can I take them off?" he asked exceptionally nervously. He seemed to regret what he had said immediately and hesitated to say something else.
I looked down at my hands in my lap. They were covered by the opera gloves tonight, which extended to cover my forearms and my elbows as well. My heart began to beat very quickly at his request, sending a rush of blood out of my head and I felt dizzy all of a sudden. My lungs wanted more air, too much. I couldn't breathe! No, he couldn't see them. He would hate me. He would find out. He would find out I wasn't who I said I was! No, he couldn't find out. Not now! Like a volcano erupting, shame overtook me slowly, hot and creeping to every edge of my body.
"Your gloves...you can have them on?" he finished saying quickly. "I am sorry."
His eyes downcast and looked very embarrassed. Now I was the one who felt embarrassed.
At that moment, a waiter stopped at our table.
"What will the lady have?" he asked.
He looked up at the waiter. "Boeuf bourguignon," he recited perfectly. I looked at him and felt more embarrassed. He was so intelligent, to remember such difficult words. It had taken me years to pronounce even the word "boeuf" correctly, and here he was copying my learned Parisian accent for those words as a genius. I felt shame. Such shame.
"What will you have, sir?" the waiter asked him.
"Poulet?" he said, unsure. He looked at me for assistance.
"Maybe poulet a la diable? Its a spicy chicken dish where--" I began quietly, but his eyes lit up and my heart melted immediately.
"Spicy! Yes, this!" he grinned, almost childishly excited. He handed the waiter the two menus which we hadn't even touched. I realized when looking at them now they had been entirely in French, so there was no chance he could have read the menu. My embarrassment grew.
Why had I chosen a French restaurant? And then... "Do you feeling home here?" he asked, looking at me again.
I felt confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand?" I asked gently.
"Is you...French restaurant, you like it feeling as in home?"
Oh, he meant did I feel like it reminded me of home. My heart sighed. I nodded. Had it been selfish of me to choose it? I looked down at my lap, ashamed.
"I am happy you feeling as in home," he rushed.
What?
I looked up at him, and he was looking at me with a very nervous expression on his face again.
My heart smiled. I sighed and smiled at him, and he smiled back too hard in his nervousness. I wanted to laugh. He was just as nervous and anxious as I was! How stupid I was.
"Next time, we can find a restaurant you like," I told him in relief.
His eyes opened wider than I thought they ever could. "Next...next time?" he gasped.
"Yes, next time. I promise," I said with all of my heart.
He looked as if he could cry.
Afterwards, we were standing in front of the restaurant waiting for a cab. He had his hand up, but the taxicabs just seemed too busy tonight. It was a Friday, after all. I was fussing with my silk wrap, trying to calm myself. He was so tall. So handsome. Having him stand next to me like this, even just like this...
"Cristobal," I began, but I never got to finish, because he looked down at me with those eyes. He put his hand to his side, and looked at me deeply. Before I could stop him, he took my hand. My body went up in an electric shock in fear, but his hand enveloped mine for how large it was. My body felt like it was bubbling over in warm comfort at this. I wanted to float away with him.
"Clementine, I need talk with you," he said quietly.
"What's the matter?" I asked, concerned. He seemed nervous again. I didn't want him to feel nervous anymore. He didn't need to.
"It is fine. I need ask you," he said, his hand beginning to quake in his nervous feeling. I wanted to take his hands in mine and to kiss them until they stopped shaking. He was leaning to me now, actually having to lean over to be level with my face. My heart became a puddle of melted chocolate.
His heated breath caught my ear, and I felt my entire body become warm in desire of him.
"I know you..." he began to whisper. I breathed inside in anticipation.
"Forgive me for say...but...I know you is man? I want say..."
No.
I gasped as my body began to feel like it was on fire. I jumped away from him. His expression changed to one of intense surprise.
No! What had he said? My feet began to carry me on their own. Away. Away! I had to get away from him! What had I done?! What did I do to give it away? What did I... I burst into tears.
I felt a hand overtake mine and I tried to jerk it away. No! No! He can't! No, I couldn't!
"Please get off me!" I cried, "get off me!" My body shook in the tears. I was losing control, but I couldn't stop anything. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't--
"Please don't!" he cried out. "Please, I'm sorry! I--!"
I tugged and tugged, increasing my strength. I didn't care if I showed him my strength now, he already knew!
"Please I- I am like you! I am female, too!" he shouted in anguish.
My body froze. Complete stop. What did he...what...
"Please..." he was begging now. "Please..."
What?
Slowly, I turned my face to him. He was breathing heavily, his body too tense. He looked in so much pain.
"Please, I... I need speak with you..." he whispered, his words now heavy with shame. "Please..." His beautiful eyes looked as if they would start crying at any second. "Do not go away," he choked. "I need speak with you..."
These last words were said so small. Like a last hope. It broke my heart. I wanted to cry just hearing them, but I was already crying. My body didn't know what to do to react anymore.
He got closer to me. "Please," he whispered like a sad child.
I couldn't take it anymore. I just hugged him. He felt so warm and beautiful. So precious. His arms wrapped around me, and he leaned his head on the top of mine. I never wanted him to stop.
"My name...is Crystal," he whispered into my hair. "I want say before, but...please I am sorry."
I felt so whole. He was female like me. Was it possible? I wanted to keep repeating it, but I couldn't believe though I wanted to at the same time.
Words would not come, so we just held each other for a long time on the sidewalk as people stared at us and muttered. But I didn't care about them. I only cared about her, this beautiful creature hugging me. My Crystal.