They had been pen pals for two years. It felt like forever, he had been waiting to meet her again but Genvieve had to wait until she was seventeen. Maman would never had allowed this meeting until then. Jean-Claude Tremblay was her third cousin or as they said in Saint Félicien, “cousin de la fesse gauche”. He was twenty-six when they first met at les funérailles de mon oncle Léo two years ago. It was love at first sight. He, with his liquid blue eyes and Genevieve with her golden blonde locks and chocolate brown eyes. Her life was never the same after their encounter. Waiting was like being deprived of chocolate during Lent for over one hundred weeks. “Impossible!!” she thought, “ C’était de la torture!” Now this June 24th, la fête de la Saint-Jean Baptiste, he had decided it was time to speak to her parents as well as celebrate la fête nationale.
They corresponded every two weeks for two years and now, the wait was over. She sighed, feeling a little sensation below her abdomen her mother had not quite explained to her when they had “the talk” quand on deviant femme.
She sat in the boudoir of la gare Windsor pretending to read a novel de Victor Hugo. She had arrived from les canton de l’est early in the morning. She looked at the clock on the wall. It read twenty minutes to noon. She felt a flip flop in her tummy, crossed the room to face the mirror and patted her chignon and pinched her cheeks. “Parfait!” she whispered staring at her eyes swimming in love and want.
She went into the main hall of the station near Gate 24.
heat of suspense
summer solstice hangs on,
© Tournesol ’16/03/01