I have to give it to Gustave. He chose a fine restaurant, which I know for a fact is difficult to get into and rather expensive.
He sits across from me, dressed nicely in a pale green shirt and gray trousers. Without asking his age, he appears more mature with dark brown hair with a few grays near his temple. When he smiles, several creases surround his blue eyes. I’d peg him for early forties, which doesn’t bother me so much these days.
Gustave peruses the wine list, keeping quiet and leaving an uncomfortable silence between us.
“Ça vous dérange si je parle anglais?” I ask him if we can speak English, given my exhaustion from working nonstop the last few hours. I can barely compute a sentence in English, let alone French. Clearly, the excess caffeine is wearing off.
“Oui.” He smiles, placing the menu down. “Do you like wine?”
“Who doesn’t?” I jest, welcoming the topic.
Gustave turns out to be a food critic. Our conversation steers to only that. He offers to choose our meals, which I agree to, but Gustave’s face looks less than pleased with the plate sitting in front of him when the waiter serves us.
We eat in silence, his face relatively blank with each bite he takes.
“Do you not like the food here?”
“It’s mediocre,” he responds flatly.
I start to wonder if people are watching us, trying to make sense of what the purpose is of us dining together since I can’t. Unlike Gustave, I immensely enjoy the French delicacy and can’t fault a single dish served tonight.
A plate of various cheeses is served, placed between us. In authentic French culture, cheese is consumed after the main dish but before dessert. Since I enjoy cheese, I don’t see a problem with this at all.
“Cheese is a delicacy. If done right, it’s the most satisfying meal,” he speaks, slicing a small piece for himself.
I have no clue what to say to that but need something quick. “Cheese is rather satisfying.”
Wow, Kate—electrifying.
“The smellier the cheese, the better.” He raises the cheese toward my face. “Here, smell this?”
Leaning in, I take a sniff, immediately scrunching my nose at the godawful stench. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“So, you like cheese?” I nod, quick to change subjects before I fall asleep. “Tell me about your family?”
“My father owned a delicatessen and curated his own cheese. My mother worked with him for over fifty years.
“And siblings?”
“No, just me.” He raises another piece of cheese, prompting me to sniff it. This one is even worse.
“And what about traveling? What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“Not much these days.” A smile graces his lips, and I wait with bated breath for a funny anecdote. “Comté vieux is aged over six months. By far exceeds the rest of the cheeses.”
This date is going downhill so fast, as I wait for anything that doesn’t involve cheese. By the end of the date, I probably could’ve gotten a degree in cheese. Hands down, this can officially top one of the worst dates in history.
“Thanks for tonight, Gustave.” I yawn forcefully, hoping he reads between the lines as he calls the waiter over and requests the bill. “I’ve learned a lot about cheese.”
“It was a pleasure, Kate.” Gustave kisses both my cheeks to say goodbye. “Shall I call you tomorrow?”
I pat his shoulder politely. “It’s probably best you don’t.”
Not wanting to watch his reaction, I turn around quickly and leave the restaurant, hailing a cab that happens to drive past.
As soon as I’m back in my apartment, I take off my heels and hit dial with a vengeance.
“Hello?”