A ROMANCE IN CANNES

Chapter 14

Coming back from my tourist getaway, I take the opportunity to go to the supermarket. The few tomatoes and aromatic herbs I had bought at the market wouldn’t be enough to feed me for a whole week. I hadn’t wanted to burden myself for the whole day with kilos of fruit and vegetables, but I bitterly regretted it when I saw the appearance of the apples which were on the shelves here. I had grown up in a rural area, the daughter and granddaughter of farmers, so I knew that a very smooth and shiny fruit didn’t guarantee that the taste was there.

I was lost in thought when my eye was caught by a familiar figure. I don’t know many people here, except my work colleagues. But the man who was in profile facing the meat section reminded me of one of my recent encounters. Not the best though. It was my neighbour. I realised at that moment that I didn’t even know his name. I could have looked at the mailboxes, but I hadn’t had the idea.

I approached, just to confirm that it was him, but I was careful to stay behind the potato stand. No doubt, it was indeed the horrible character who shared the same landing as me. It was the first time that I could examine him in broad daylight and also without his piercing gaze on me. He was shorter than I remembered, even though he exceeded me by a good dozen centimetres without any problem. His blond hair was a little too long but, in my opinion, not in the idea of giving himself a surfer style, rather negligently. He was wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans that hugged what looked to me like a delicious posterior.

Wait, Danielle! You’re not ogling the buttocks of your neighbour! The buttocks of your married neighbour, moreover! The buttocks of your unsympathetic married neighbour!

An old lady walked past me and pulled me out of my daydream. She made me understand with a grunt that she wanted to help herself, but that I was in the way. Indeed, I was standing in front of the stall and I blocked the passage.

To appear slightly more credible, I picked up a bag and started piling potatoes into it. Honestly, I didn’t even pay attention to the ones I took. I was too fueled in my spying. I had an opportunity to learn more about my neighbour. Because what better place than the supermarket to glean clues about people’s lives?

Currently, he was staring at a tray of chicken thighs! No vegetables in his cart; on the other hand, he was into barbecues! And, where, with me, it would immediately turn into a small paunch or would lodge on my buttocks, with him, it would certainly create another row of abs. Or maybe it would also go on his posterior? Well, if that was his diet, it worked quite well for him… At least for his buttocks. If it turns out, he didn’t even have abs, for that matter. Not that I’m interested in knowing. I would have even said that I was never going to find out. After all, this guy looked like a geek with his glasses, he probably wasn’t the type to hit the gym as soon as the sun rose. For him, sport should be summed up as using thumb muscles on a game console.

Just as I was thinking this, perhaps sensing that he was being watched, he turned his head in my direction. With quite a spectacular reflex, I ducked down, putting the bag of potatoes in my basket. It was heavy; I got a little carried away. I then moved to the zucchini to resume my observation. I also had a better angle than where I was before. The neighbour was still staring at the meat trays. What could he possibly find so interesting in them? If he took that long for each purchase, it certainly took him hours to shop! It must have been one of those men who never set foot in the supermarket and who, for once when the wife sent them shopping, found themselves helpless. This thought made me chuckle. I bet not two minutes would go by without him pulling out his phone to call his wife for help.

Bingo! He was taking a phone out of his pocket! He tapped on it for a few seconds and then, to my great surprise, put it back in its place. He tossed a tray of meat into his cart and set off to the next aisle. I closed my bag of zucchini and started walking too. In the dairy department, he took some butter. Nothing very interesting. He had a good time in the fresh and frozen sections.

I had discovered in passing that he was wearing a Star Wars t-shirt. I wasn’t mistaken, he was indeed a geek. Who wore Star Wars t-shirts besides them? Cali was a real fan, and I had to rewatch the complete series of films during our stay together. Just the thought of hearing Chewbacca’s screams sent shivers down my spine. All this is to say that dream buttocks or not, guys dressing like teenage fans of galactic wars wasn’t my thing at all. I know that some girls dream of the charming geek who, in the manner of Han Solo, will answer them “I know” to their “I love you”. No thanks. Does very little for me. Especially since the only time I had allowed myself to love a man, he had trampled on my heart before disappearing.

We had reached the back of the store. Monsieur chose a bottle of wine. I tell myself at this moment that it might be good for me to disappear before he spots me. So I headed to the checkout. Of course, there was only one open. Okay, it wasn’t rush hour, but considering how long it took for the granny in front of me to set up her items on the conveyor belt, it felt just like that. As she counted her change to give to the cashier, someone got in line behind me.

I turn around, ready to hand the little divider to the person so they can start setting up their items on the belt too, when I see who that person is. My neighbour.

Our eyes met and I said:

“Hello.”

He blinked and looked at me, a little surprised, before answering with a “hello”.

Okay, he hadn’t recognized me.

“I’m Danielle, your neighbour.”

“Ah,” was his only answer.

Was he still mad at me for that electricity incident? Or the ants?

“Have you weighed your vegetables?” asks the cashier.

“Uh…no,” I admitted, embarrassed. “I can go…”

“It’s okay, my colleague will take care of it,” the store clerk cut me off, a bit annoyed.

She beckoned to him, and he grabbed my potatoes and zucchini. Not without emitting a small sigh for the trouble that this creates. I glanced nervously behind me. Who enjoys being the girl who keeps everyone waiting at the checkout?

In the meantime, the cashier scanned the rest of my items. I didn’t even remember taking most of them. I had been so fueled by watching my neighbour that I had taken a few things at random. What the hell was I going to do with animal crackers? Well, maybe they would be useful if Rose came to visit me. Besides, there was nothing shameful about buying kids cookies.

The man who had gone to weigh my vegetables came back out of breath and placed them heavily on the belt. Four and a half kilos of potatoes and two kilos of zucchini. On this one, I went a bit too far… Which bachelorette needs four kilos of potatoes? Except in maths books, no one buys four kilos of potatoes! However, I dared not ask the cashier to put some of them back. I felt that I had already annoyed her enough, and since this store was the closest to my house, I didn’t want to have to look for another place to shop because I had pissed off the cashier on my first visit.

I paid for my purchases and began to leave. I hadn’t gone two metres when the plastic handle was already sawing off my fingertips. The walk to the apartment was going to be a long one. Very long.

I left the supermarket and, barely a few metres later, I heard a c***k. The sound announced that the plastic bag had given way under the weight of the potatoes. In a few seconds, the sidewalk was covered with potatoes rolling in all directions.

I remained paralyzed by the distressing sight of the scattered tubers. A real disaster. A few passers-by coming in the other direction began to slalom through the small obstacles strewn on the ground. It’s only when a deep voice speaks to me that I come out of my daze.

“It might be nice to pick them up.”

It was my famous neighbour, his bags hanging at arm’s length.

His remark exasperated me at first. Thanks for pointing out the obvious! Then I saw him put his bundles on the ground and start picking up my potatoes.

“We should put a little in each of your bags to distribute the weight,” he pointed out as he continued his task.

I mumbled a “good idea” and crouched down as well.

“I’ll put some in mine too, it’ll be easier,” he added.

“Hm-hm.”

I avoided his gaze. I hadn’t scored a lot of points with him before, this is certainly not what was going to win me any.

Once all the potatoes were retrieved – and, believe me, that stuff can go a long way – we headed for our apartment building. My neighbour offers to carry a large part of the groceries in addition to his own.

“You don’t have to do that,” I objected.

He shrugged his shoulders and replied:

“If it makes you happy, just take this bag, it’s not too heavy.”

I grabbed his bag and couldn’t help but peek inside. There were only frozen meals. Rations for one person. Still, I glanced at his hand. He was wearing a wedding ring. Maybe his wife was away? Which explained the frozen meals and his helpless appearance in the supermarket. However, I didn’t dare ask him the question. We also arrived quickly on our landing.

I unlocked my door and wondered what the procedure was to follow. Should I invite him for a drink to thank him? I turned to him and saw that he wasn't following me inside. He had put the packages on my doormat.

“Uh…”

I still didn’t know his name. So I went back to him.

“I…thank you for…that,” I stammered, gesturing to my bags.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, certainly automatically.

“Uh…,” I hesitated. “I don’t know your name.”

He tilts his head as if he was wondering why I was asking this question.

“Victor,” he finally said. “Victor Lansky.”

“Well, thank you, Victor. I’m Danielle Allard.”

I felt like I was participating in some bad series dialogue.

“I know,” he said.

Okay.

I didn’t have time to think about what to answer to this laconic reply, because he turns and takes out his keys to open his door. A moment later, he was gone. A goodbye or good evening was too much, apparently.