Page 6 of Need to Know

“I ordered breakfast. It’s set out on my balcony; would you like to join me?” he asked. I rubbed a hand over my mouth, noting the sharp rasp against my palm. I hadn’t shaved or even showered today. I must reek. I recalled how Jack had ordered Mac and cheese for me last night to ensure I ate something. It was a sweet, caring gesture. I was surprised that he’d even remembered my favourite comfort food. I’d wolfed it down like an automaton and feeling full helped.

This morning the thought of food didn’t sit well, but I couldn’t be on my own any longer. I needed to get out of my headspace of grief and self-doubt before Roz and the circus arrived.

“I guess I could eat,” I lied. “Let me take a shower and get my phone in case—” I trailed off. I hoped Erik was okay…then I caught myself. No, I hoped the bastard was feeling like shit for betraying me. I hoped he ate bad oysters, drank raw milk, and...and…needed to spend a day on the john.

Jack reached out and caressed my bare shoulder, the brush of his soft fingertips pulling me from my fierce internal monologue. “No rush. I’ll leave the door unlocked, come over when you’re ready.” Jack’s brown eyes were full of empathy. I appreciated how gentle he was with me.

****

I stepped into the shower and scrubbed the sleepless night from my skin. When I dried off, I pulled on sweats, and a hoodie. I grabbed my phone and room keycard and then, barefoot with wet hair, I made my way across the hall to Jack’s. I knocked before pushing the unlocked door open.

“Cooie! I’m out here!” Jack called in a sing-song. Jack’s Briticism’s were like warm honey on my tongue and I couldn’t repress my smile. I closed the door then strode down the short hall and across a lounge that was a mirror image of my suite. I stepped out onto the balcony that faced the inner courtyard garden of the hotel. It was a glorious June morning and so peaceful here without the constant road sounds from the Champs Elysee. Jack was seated at a table laid for two, reading the London Times. He glanced up from the newspaper and grinned.

“I don’t even know why I asked for this fascist rag to be delivered. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic! Anyway, breakfast waits.” He folded the newspaper and discarded it, and then gestured towards a trolley laden with a continental breakfast assortment of croissants, and pastries, fresh bread, a plate of cheeses, cold meats, grapes, fruit salad, and yoghurt. My belly growled as my appetite suddenly came roaring back. I guess I was hungry after all!

“Tea or coffee?” Jack asked.

“Oh, whatever you’re having.”

“Very well, tea it is,” he grinned as he poured tea from a white china pot. I placed some oven-warm bread, charcuterie meats, and cheeses on my plate with grapes, apple slices, and melon. Then I took the seat opposite Jack.

“Ah, you’ve gone for the Brie and Camembert. You love your cheese, don’t you?” I smiled, because, yes, I did love cheese. “Give me a block of British Cheddar, and I’d happily snack on it all day,” I replied.

“That makes your Christmas gifting easy enough!” Jack grinned as he added milk and sugar to his tea, stirred it, picked up the cup, and sat back. I prepared a chunk of crusty bread with a spiced apple preserve and brie then glance up to see Jack was watching me over the rim of his teacup. He took a sip before saying,

“You know I went to ballet school?”

“Yeah,” I replied curiously.

“Well, it wasn’t all dance, we had regular school lessons too. In my second year the class went on a day trip. We all got on a coach and took the ferry to Calais so that we could visit a French supermarket and use what we’d learned in French class in the real world,”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” I said, unsure where this story was going.

“I’d been given my pocket money early so I could buy something…so I had like, ten pounds I’d transferred into Euros. I wasn’t money conscious back then so it felt like an absolute fortune.” Jack considered me with humour in his eyes and took another sip of tea. The man was a force of nature and being with him in this moment, I felt a little lighter in myself.

“So, what did you buy?” I enquired. Jack placed his teacup on the saucer and held his hands up.

“A caveat…first I have to say, and I know this might shock you because I’m clearly perfect at everything, but when I was a kid I was really shit at French, way better at German.’’

‘’Noh! Say it ain’t so!’’ I deadpanned, playing along.

‘’My mate Gavin was the best at French in our class. I used to copy his homework…terrible I know. Anyway, on the bus we had to pick a piece of paper out of a hat to find out which department we were to buy something from. I got cheese. Gav got fruit. I went to Le rayon fromages du supermarché, which is ‘the supermarket cheese counter’ to you and me!’’

I snickered at his hammy French accent.

‘’I was bloody terrified and intimidated by the whole thing…so shy and self-conscious that I barely had the courage to speak up in class, but I needed to buy something in the French supermarket to pass the end of term exam. I asked Gav how to say, Which is your best cheese? He told me to say Quel est votre fromage le plus puant? I asked the lady behind the counter. She recommended a cheese called Vieux–Boulogne, so I nodded and paid for a small wedge of it, and then I bought some sweets with the rest of the Euros. The whole class each made a purchase and we got back on the school coach to go to the ferry and get back to Dover.’’

‘’And?’’ I placed another slice of Brie on the warm bread, ate, and sipped tea as Jack entertained me with his story.

‘’The bloody coach broke down and we got stuck for like, six hours on a roasting hot day. I’d put the cheese in my school bag. Someone noticed a strange smell. They tracked it to me. The other kids started yelling that I’d shat myself.’’

I choked on my tea, and then laughed so hard tears rolled down my cheeks. Jack didn’t stop to wait for me to recover.

’’I was mortified! Gavin, the little shit, had played a prank on me. He revealed he’d made me ask for the smelliest cheese, and fuck, it really reeked like shitty unwashed arsehole. My teacher was furious, she made me throw it out of the window cos it smelled so bad.’’

I enjoyed the ridiculousness of the anecdote, but I could see what Jack was doing. He was trying to distract me from my doom spiral, and honestly, I was grateful that he’d wanted to make me smile.

Then, self depreciatingly, he said, “I guess it served me right. I’ve always been far too trusting.”