Girl In Cafe

I sat outside the Lennox Cafe with only a pot of tea since my money was running low due to my inability to open a bank account in a foreign country. I sat between an Irish couple, a Spanish couple and two Irish men, all enjoying wine, food, espresso and dessert. I didn't dare make eye contact with any of them especially after the waiter snuffed at me when I said I would only be ordering a pot of tea at a table for one.

To distract myself from connecting with strangers I pulled out a copy of Venus in Furs, slowly sipping the Irish tea since my waiter refused to bring me milk. 

Without hesitation, even after I warned myself not to, I looked up at the street to see a man pedaling a bike and as he turned the corner he blew a kiss. I looked down back at my book feeling my cheeks burn. I turned the page but from under my table I noticed two wheels and a green sneaker. The man on the bike had turned, turned around.  When he noticed I had noticed him, he threw his bike down not bothering to lock it and asked to join me.

His name, Henry.

Henry the musician, on his way to meet his friend to grab his guitar before a gig said he felt he had to turn around to meet me, to ask my name, to learn where I am from and laughed when I said California, claiming I looked French. I had the hair of a French girl with wicked lashes. I sensed the couples were uncomfortable with us, us the intruders, the poor, the unequipped to dine and wine. Henry said beautiful girls should never sit alone. 

I told Henry I wished him the best with his music and asked him to leave, see no man with a bike, no man with a guitar can swoon a girl at a table for one when he tells her she would fit in only when sitting at a table for two.