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  • The French Connection Ch. 01

The French Connection Ch. 01

12

Note: My character in the story is an English teacher but I am not one in real life. So grammar nazis can be lenient on me & the racists can keep their snide remarks to themselves.

Note: This story is dedicated to Mona. If you are reading this story Mona, I have read your mail and I am touched. Be the character...be what you want to be.


I sighed as I finally walked past the gate of my apartment complex. It was an unusually hot day even for a city like Mumbai where the summers were cruel. The heat, the humidity, the fatigue was complimented by a heavy bag of groceries that I carried in my hands and also a big hand bag that was over my shoulder.

Drops of sweat were accumulating on my forehead as I awkwardly walked to my building. As I was walking, I noticed a cab standing below my building. It was a cab from one of those several cab hiring companies that had sprung up in the country in the last few years.

The trunk of the cab was open and I saw a couple of bags inside the trunk and I also noticed the driver sitting in the cab. He turned his head to look at me as I walked passed him, not failing to realize his lecherous stare.

'Asshole...' I thought about the cab driver and kept walking. I went over to the elevator and noticed that the 'out of order' board was hanging on the elevator door. Since my house was on the third floor, I never really needed the elevator. I had kept myself active enough to easily climb the stairs. But with all the groceries in my hand, my dehydrated body didn't have the energy to climb up the fleet of stairs which looked like huge challenge.

I cursed under my breath and started dragging myself to my third floor apartment via the stairs. I slowly and awkwardly labored my way over to my apartment and kept the bag of groceries on the stairs. I started looking for the keys to my house inside the bag when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I glanced up to see a tall, lean man walking down towards me. Looking at his white complexion and blond hair, I realized that he wasn't from around; that he was a foreigner.

He stopped a couple of feet away from on the staircase. He was tall and the couple of feet added by the step made him look taller. I kept looking up at him, expecting him to say something. But he looked down at his feet and I followed his gaze to realize that my bag of groceries was in the way.

We both looked at each other and all I could do was smile awkwardly and move the bag to the side. He smiled at me, tipped his baseball cap and started walking down the stairs. I immediately picked up the bag of groceries and realized that he was staring me as he walked down the stairs. His stare wasn't as obvious and lecherous as the cabbie but none the less like a man checking out a woman. Being a woman, that too a beautiful one, I had become used to being stared and at times gawked at and didn't make much of it and walked inside my apartment.

I freshened up, had a couple of glasses of water and got down to cooking myself a meal. I was busy in the kitchen when I heard the doorbell. I wondered who it might be at the door in the middle of the afternoon. I walked over and opened the door to see my neighbor and friend Rupali.

"Hi Rhea..." Rupali said as she walked into my house.

"Hi Rupali..." I replied and closed the door behind me. Rupali and I had known each other ever since I moved to this place 5 years ago; she had moved here a year before I did. She and I were in our early thirties and we hit it off immediately and had been good friends ever since.

"We have a new neighbor amongst us." Rupali said as she walked behind me into the kitchen.

"I know." I replied.

"He's not from around here, you know?" She said as stood in the kitchen and I walked over to the kitchen counter to cook.

"I know." I replied.

"How do you know?" She asked with a sense of bewilderment, in her typical high pitched voice. Rupali, being the gossip monger of the neighborhood took offence to the fact that I knew the hottest piece of gossip before she could tell me.

"I saw him. He walked right passed me some time back." I told her, trying to pacify her dented ego.

"Ohhh...Do you know his name?" She asked.

"No I don't." I replied. As soon as I said that I saw her face glow hi delight. She finally was telling me something I didn't know.

"His name is Jacques. He is from France. His company posted him here at their office in BKC and he came to India a couple of days ago. He was living at the Marriott for the last couple of days. Mr. Mehra leased out his house to the company Jacques works in and they've giving him that place to live." Rupali said that in one breath.

I smiled in amusement at how excited she sounded telling me about a stranger from overseas who had moved in not more than an hour ago.

"How do you know all that? Are you a spy or something...like James Bond?" I asked her, wondering how she could gather all that information so quickly.

"Hahaha...No! I talked to him sometime back." She replied.

"Ohhh...You were welcoming him to the neighborhood huh?" I said and winked at her.

"Hehe...No No...just a courtesy visit; you know that I am a good neighbor." She replied, poorly justifying her walking up to a stranger and asking him a whole lot about himself.

"Hmmmm...righttttt..." I said and laughed and Rupali joined the laughter.

"What are you making for lunch?" She asked as she walked over to the counter and peeped inside on of the pots.

"Nothing special...just the usual." I replied.

"Your usual is also special for me. I love your cooking. I am not in the mood to cook today. I am going to eat here." She declared.

"Hehehe...alright..." I replied and we both got busy cooking.

---------------------------

Another round of grocery shopping had come up a few days after. It had been days since Rupali had dropped by for lunch and we had talked about our new neighbor. This time I avoided going to the shop in the afternoon and opted for an evening excursion.

I walked over to the shop and heard some commotion. The shop keeper was talking loudly to a man whose back was towards me.

"No...I no Englisss...No...Vhaat you whaant?" I heard Ratichand, our neighborhood grocer speaking rather loudly.

I could hear the man speaking what was clearly not English. I walked closer to enquire when Ratichand saw me and turned to talk to me.

"Are madam...dekho na ye firang kya bol raha hai...kuch samajh nahi aa raha..." (Madam...look at this foreigner...I have no clue what he is saying). Ratichand said, sounding clearly agitated.

The man turned to me as soon as he heard Ratichand talk to me and I got a clear look at his face. It was the Frenchman from my building, Jacques. Amused at the cultural clash between the men, I smiled and walked over to them. Jacques gave me an awkward smile as I stood next to him.

"What do you want?" I asked Jacques in English which I thought he understood but I was clearly wrong. He looked lost, perhaps trying to figure out what I was asking him. I asked him again, this time tilting my hand in the typical Indian way when asking a question.

"Oeufs...Je veux des oeufs." He said.

"Huh...what?" I replied. I knew he was speaking French but at the moment I was as clueless as Ratichand.

Jacques thought for a moment and then tucked his hands under his armpits and started flapping hands like that of a chicken. He even went to the extent of clucking like a chicken and then made a circle with his index finger and thumb. I giggled when I realized what he wanted.

"Bhaiyya...give him a dozen eggs." I told Ratichand who look relieved and nodded his head in amusement when I solved the puzzle for him.

Ratichand came back with a dozen eggs and Jacques seemed elated to finally get what he wanted.

"Merci...." Jacques looked at me, gently nodded with a smile. Now I was no expert in French language but I knew a few words.

"You're welcome." I replied. Jacques picked up a loaf of bread, paid Ratichand the money and walked out of the store. I got busy shopping for my supplies and after a good fifteen minutes walked out of the store with a big bag of groceries.

As I stepped out of the store, I saw Jacques standing there, smiling at me. He had been waiting there all this while. I smiled back at him and he started walking with me. I didn't mind that. Perhaps he was showing courtesy to a woman who had helped him in this strange foreign land.

We kept walking slowly, not saying a word. I had the huge bag of groceries in my hand and was walking as awkwardly as the last time. He noticed that and promptly took the bag from my hands into his. I couldn't say much and I didn't want to either because it was a relief to have that bag off me.

"I...Jacques..." He said as he extended his arms for a handshake.

"Hehe...I am Rhea." I said, extending my hand and meeting his. The first thing I noticed was his hand was too large for mine. It enveloped my hand during the handshake. The next thing I noticed was how effortlessly he was holding the heavy grocery bag in his arm and walking with me.

"Nice...to...meet...you." He said and smiled.

"Nice to meet you too." I replied and we kept walking. As we walked, the other things I realized was Jacques was tall...really tall. I stand at 5 feet 7 inches, making me tall for an Indian woman but Jacques towered at least half a foot over me making him a 6 foot plus man. His lean frame accentuated his height but he wasn't skinny, not by any standard. I realized that when I saw his chiseled forearm and bicep as he carried the grocery bag.

He had blond hair, not unusual for a European and he was white...not fair...but white. Even the fairest Indian was dark compared to him. His blond hair and white complexion was complimented with light blue eyes which seemed as if he was wearing lenses but I was sure they were natural.

We walked over to our building and got into the elevator all the while making awkward small talk; him in his broken English and I trying to reply. In the closed, cramped elevator, I realized that he was wearing really nice cologne which just added to his personality.

We walked over to the door of my house, I opened it and welcomed him inside. He walked in and kept the bag on the dinning table and was about to leave when I asked him to stay. He smiled awkwardly and stood in his place.

"Would you like to have some coffee?" I asked him as I signaled him to sit on the couch and make himself comfortable.

"Café?" He asked.

"Yess...café." I replied.

"Yeah...yess...Merci." He replied with a boyish smile to which I smiled too and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I returned a little later to see Jacques sitting in his place, still as awkwardly as he was before.

I placed the cups of coffee on a table and the snacks as well. I handed him a cup of coffee and sat on the couch in front of him and handed him a small dish of typical Indian snacks. He wondered what it was before I told him to eat it.

Jacques was pleasantly delighted to taste an Indian snack, perhaps his first time having one. The snacks weren't very spicy even for his pallet and he nodded happily as he munched on some more.

"What is this?" He asked in his thickly accented English.

"Chiwada." I replied.

"Huh?" He replied. The word I uttered must have been like a tongue twister to him.

"Chee-wa-daa" I replied before giggling.

"Ohhh...Chee-wa-daa is nice." He replied before laughing out loud.

He promptly took out a small pocket sized book from his jeans and started reading from it. I wondered what he was doing.

"What...do you...do Rhea?" He asked.

"I am a school teacher." I replied to a confused looking Jacques.

He buried his head in he book before he raised it again before saying, "Professeur?"

"Yess...Professor." I replied, for the first time understanding what he was saying without having him to act out for me.

"What do you do?" I asked him in response.

"ingénieur" He replied in a very French sounding version of engineer which I understood. Perhaps it would not be so difficult talking to him after all.

So for the rest of the time, I and Jacques indulged in such short and conversations and introduced ourselves. It wasn't long before the coffee was finished and the snacks had been munched on and it was time for him to leave. He got up and walked over to the door. He walked out as I stood there and said goodbye.

"Au reviour." He said as he gently waved his hand.

"Bye...Jacques." I replied before closing the door and moving on.

--------------------

Life had been pretty relaxed since the schools were closed for the summer vacations. I would spend my day doing chores at a leisurely pace rather than the hectic pace that I would do when I was working.

I had a good two months to go before the schools started and with my husband away on high seas till the end of the year, I had ample time at hand for myself. So, with that in mind, I would go for a morning jog every morning in and around my apartment complex. A few ladies from the complex would join me for a brisk walk but I preferred jogging rather than walking. Also, I wanted to focus more on the exercise rather than gossiping with the old ladies.

It was just another morning when I had woken up early for a jog around my complex. I wore my regular T shirt with a pair of yoga pants. I wore the yoga pants not to show of my butt, which frankly was worth showing off but I wore them because they were comfortable and provided me enough flexibility to run around.

I had gotten used to the other women gawking at me for wearing what they thought were revealing clothes and an unbecoming of a married woman in her thirties but fuck them, who cares, I thought.

The other ladies were done with a couple of rounds of the park before they decided to call it a day where as I had finished 5 and decided to go for another 5 before getting back home. Soon, the park was empty and I was the only person on the jogging track.

As I was jogging, I heard footsteps behind me. I could hear and feel them getting close rather quickly. I didn't bother to look back at who it was but I was aware of that person's presence and I thought it must be just one of the neighbors and continued jogging.

"Hello....Rhea..." I heard Jacques' distinct voice next to me. He was jogging right besides me and was flashing me his usual boyish smile. Startled at first, I smiled back at him when I realized it was him and we continued jogging.

"Today...Sunday...is holiday..." He said.

"Ohhh...I know...great..." replied.

"You jog everyday?" I asked him and realized he didn't understand what I had said when I saw a puzzled expression every day.

"This....you do everyday?" I asked, gesturing at him, hoping he'd understand.

"Yeah...yess...Wake early but today Sunday...So late." He replied. He must be an early riser because I hadn't seen him in the track at all in these days.

We slowly walked back to our building after we were done jogging. The summer sun hadn't been kind even in the morning and I was sweating. My wet T shirt stuck to my body, clearly outlining the curves of my well maintained figure. I had noticed him stealing glances at me when we were jogging but now that we were facing each other, he looked at me more openly.

"You...teacher eh?" He asked as he sipped Gatorade from his sipper before offering me a drink as well. I was tired and thirsty and with a delicious drink in front of me, I just grabbed it and started drinking.

"Yeah...." I replied after I gulped down a large sip.

"What you teach?" He asked.

"I teach English literature to school children." I replied.

"Hmmmm...tres bon. You teach me...how to speak English?" He asked.

"Meee...Uhh.... I don't know...I don't take private tuitions." I replied hesitantly. I barely knew the man and I had no experience in teaching English to foreigners. Due to the colonial past, Indians were fairly acquainted with English even if they hadn't received formal education so teaching them, especially young children was not that difficult. But teaching a man who had no connection to English...I just wasn't sure. Besides, I didn't expect such a request.

"Please...without English...uhh...Tres difficile...to live here." He replied, understanding my hesitation and persuading me to teach him.

"Uhhh...let me think." I said but he continued his persuasion. I hadn't taught a foreigner before but Jacques wasn't completely alien to English, he could speak to survive, so I didn't have to start from scratch. I thought for a moment more and then decided to go for it. It would be a new experience I thought.

"Ok Jacques. I will teach you." I replied to which he smiled sweetly. His dimpled cheeks, his smile showing the sparkling white teeth and his blue eyes made him look very cute and gave a glimpse of child in him but at the same time, his sweat soaked shirt and his chiseled arms gave a glimpse of his manliness.

"We start after lunch today?" He asked.

"Ummm...okay... "I replied. I had nothing else to do on a boring afternoon so I'd rather spend time doing what I do best, teach.

------------------------

"Come Inside. Please sit down." I signaled him to sit on the dinning table in the living room.

It was late in the afternoon when I had finished all my chores when Jacques came to my door. He was wearing a loose white T shirt and a pair of black shorts. His blond hair was still wet from the shower or perhaps the sweat from the unbearable summer heat. He had day a old stubble which complimented his well formed jaw line.

He sat at the dining table and I served him a cold drink and some snacks. He had brought some books along; they were mostly books for foreigners who wanted to learn conversational English, self help books. He also had brought English to French dictionary which would help a lot.

I knew Jacques didn't want to learn the grammar and all the technicality of the language but rather wanted to learn how to speak every day English. So I had to change my approach and focus on helping him learn the words, the pronunciation and some basic grammar to get the sentences right.

We were sitting just a couple of feet away from each other and I could smell the cologne he was wearing. The pleasant smell emanating from his body was a distraction. As my husband would be on the seas for months at a time, I would be sex starved at home and my starving body's heightened sense caught the aroma.

He was speaking after me, the sentences I taught him. He would smile cutely when he fumbled with the words or their pronunciations. He would refer to the dictionary if he didn't know the meaning and he grasped quite a lot for just one session.

"Are you married?" He asked as I placed a cup of tea in front of him and joined him on the dinning table.

"Yes I am. You see this chain on my neck, this is called a Mangalsutra. In India, this is a sign of being married." I explained, giving him a tit bit on Indian culture.

"He is in the merchant navy...uhh...ship..." I tried to explain him my husband's profession. He opened the dictionary and flipped some pages before stopping at one. After a moment, he raised his head and smiled at me, indicating that he understood what I said.

"He is in ship for months then, yes?" He asked.

"On the ship...not in the ship and yes...he is away for months." I replied at the same time being a teacher.

"Don't you get...uhh...bored?" He asked with a frown on his face.

"Well...I am used to it...what can I do? It's his job." I replied and sighed. My husband earned handsomely from his job but was away for long durations. I had been on his ship twice before but the high seas bored me completely.

It wasn't a cruise ship where there is so much to do. It was a oil tanker with a crew of 25-30 men who worked long hours. The only entertainment on board was a stack of DVD's which I watched over and over during the long, mentally exhausting trip. I never stepped on his ship again, preferring to wait for him to come back on land.

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