The reply came promptly. Within the hour of sending her message, Helene read the short response. "Meet me Saturday at 12:30 pm on the steps of the front entrance of art gallery. I will be waiting under that large and impressive gargoyle perched above the entrance. You can't miss it. Wear some sensible shoes as we will be doing some walking."
Helene was amused by the mention of the gargoyle. "Writers and their damn symbolism." she chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "What's with that?"
Helene had a couple days to wait for this meeting and she was of two minds about it. Part of her couldn't wait to see what was in store for her. Her new acquaintance clearly had some imagination. Another part of her was tangibly nervous and anxious. It was a feeling she hadn't had since her college days. She thought of her first time in a lecture hall where she had to stand up in front of a large group of her peers and give a brief summary of a report she had written. She had to provide an explanation of her report's significance and relevance within her discipline.
She knew the material backwards and forwards. There was no doubt about the quality of her work or her ability to communicate it. And yet, as the time drew near to stand up and begin, it seemed her body became a completely irrational force that would not be tamed. She began to sweat, and her heart raced. Her ability to focus and organize her thoughts was elusive and the realization made her begin to panic. She thought she might be nervous, but not like this. This was more like facing a firing squad than a slightly disinterested group of students. She cringed at the idea that they would likely take far more interest in a personal meltdown than an academic discussion. "Please don't let me be that kind of entertainment." she quietly pleaded.
Fortunately for Helene, a young man she knew recognized her distress and asked her how she felt. She readily admitted how nervous she was and how childish she felt. The young man said "Everybody feels that way at first, but not everybody has the courage to admit it. Just start with that fact and once the words start spilling out, you will be fine."
The advice was sound. She got up and with a laugh admitted that this was her first real taste of public speaking which scared her shitless, and she hoped more than anything for a fire alarm to sound, or bomb threat to be called in. This was received with a good deal of laughter which somehow disarmed most of her nervous energy. In no more than a minute, she felt composed and relaxed and the master of her emotions again. As she joked later to one of her friends, "The truth shall set you free."
On the morning of her arranged meeting, she found that old stage fright start to creep in as she looked into her bathroom mirror. She pulled at her hair, and turned her head as she considered different angles of her profile. She began to consider for the first time that maybe she would disappoint this man. Maybe she was not up to whatever challenges or expectations he might have. God only knew what he had in mind.
"At least actors have a script for their characters. This feels more like some sort of stand-up improv." she fretted. What could be more devastating that bad reviews she wondered.
* * * * *
The morning of the first meeting was a classic spring day. The sky was very blue, with an appealing arrangement of clouds scattered around. The type of clouds one could stare at and find recognizable shapes everywhere within them if you only had the time and the imagination to try. They reminded her of paintings she had seen from some Dutch master who had so expertly arranged the play of the different shades of color that clouds can contain - from the most billowy white, to the angry grey-black.
The wind was just strong enough to give the air a particular clean and sharp taste which made one's senses more alert and alive. It was the kind of day that Helene loved and put her in good mood as she took the short walk from her apartment to the art gallery.
The day being as brisk as it was, Helene wore a pale knee length trench coat style overcoat and a vibrant colored scarf that she liked. Beneath that she wore a light sweater, some slacks and some flat shoes. Not the sexiest outfit she realized, but she liked how she looked and felt very comfortable this way. There was an understated elegance to her that she dimly appreciated.
At noon on a Saturday the wide city street was jammed with people and was a hive of activity. Helene was crossing an intersection when she first caught site of the art gallery entrance and began to scan around for her new acquaintance. The entrance was crowded with a vast assortment of people who mingled around in clustered little knots. She was scanning back and forth across the entrance getting closer and closer.
She remembered about the gargoyle and looked up to find it. It was funny she had never really looked at it properly before. Helene thought the figure was perhaps some some sort of representation of a fallen angel. It was a great winged creature not unlike a small dragon. But the torso and and arms were very much like a human. But what made it remarkable was the face. It was large with an imperious head with ancient visage. Its head was clasped between its hand and seemed to stare out rather intensely at all before it. One could imagine the face portrayed indifference, or even contempt, except that its tongue was firmly jutting out from the side. Was this meant to be mocking or perhaps lascivious? It was tough to say.
Helene dropped her gaze below the figure and saw another face looking right at her. When there eyes met she was instantly pleased. The man sitting propped up against a pillar with his hand under his cheek and his head cocked to one side. He was smiling broadly and she got the impression he had seen her well before she had seen him.
He quickly straightened, and moved down the stairs to greet her.
"It is so nice to see you" he said. "You look wonderful."
She beamed at him and replied, "You are not so bad yourself."
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder and held him at arms length for a moment as she gave him a searching look.
"So, what IS your name?"
"You can call me Jack"
Helene sensed something in this answer and squinted at him.
"What does your mother call you?"
"Jackson, actually."
"Which do you prefer?"
"I have been Jack since I was kid"
"OK Jack. What's on the agenda?"
Jack reached over and swung his around Helene's shoulder and started leading her to the sidewalk with a surprising ease and familiarity that she found so unusual. It was as if they were old friends.
"For today I wanted to discuss some specific ideas and hopefully get a chance to explore their significance. For the time being, I would like for us to just walk and talk. We can go down to ocean front and walk the seawall. It is a good day for it."
So Helene slipped her arm around Jack's waist and allowed herself to be led down the street all the while stealing glances at his expression.
Jack dove right in to his subject matter.
