He Said, She Said: A Chivalrous Romance

By John Mazur

A chivalrous romance that blossoms out of patience, respect and understanding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733185400

Book preview

fantasy.

2 - ENGLISH 201

She was sitting in the middle of the last row, actually the fourth row, for there were only four rows in the class room, and I immediately noticed her vibrancy: her bright, energetic smile was first to capture my attention; upon second glance, I was drawn to the young lady’s magnetic, cobalt-blue eyes.

I began to discuss the syllabus and reading list, which included Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. During its summarization, the young lady, Elaine Emerson, and I entered into what seemed a private conversation, discussing the time and distance and subject matter of Darcy and Elizabeth’s walk.

After Kitty was excused to go to the Lucases’ to talk to Maria, Elizabeth thanked Darcy, I said. Then we get his humble acknowledgment and admittance that he really did everything only for her sake. The weaving of their conversation causes Elizabeth’s great embarrassment at hearing Darcy repeat her caustic rejection of his first marriage proposal; conjuring to herself her resentment of Darcy’s name and the horror of his manners, she involuntarily blushes her shame, wishing that everything she said to him earlier please be forgotten.

Since then, Elaine eagerly interjected, her feelings have changed and now she accepts his proposal of marriage, a woman’s prerogative. Their confessions to one another, honest and enjoyable, were revealed as they walked more than two miles, taking them past their expected return time for dinner.

For sure, you’re correct, Elaine, and herein lies the entire naturalness of the story: it’s a reflection of the times and the human endeavors to achieve happiness—and some sort of permanency—and is truly autobiographical. We must commend Jane Austen and her keen observance of life around her. Her marvelous descriptions, phrasing of speech patterns, and vocabulary are truly the quintessence of the English language. Simple and straight forward. I especially love the way her two principal characters develop and realize personal errors of judgment and make amends—the prime example, Darcy.

Having a man of that quality would be a pleasure…Such courtesy and refinement—truly he’s a gentleman, Elaine added. Actually, it took love to awaken both of them. Of their walk, the second day is quite interesting, and we have just the mention of it. That conversation has to be all about their future plans, but we only get to imagine it. But chapter sixty, where Elizabeth playfully teases Darcy with questions of how and what caused him to fall in love with her, and about his letter thanking Mrs. Gardiner for the diversion to Pemberley, is a good substitute for their second walk. It’s so civilized.

How right you are, dear Lady, I replied. And are there any comparisons of the story to today’s society?

Oh yes, we can update the story and characters to today with just Elizabeth and Darcy. We are cruder and common in clothing, dress, and speech; nothing in manners; and generally unrefined and vulgar is our accepted daily routine. For the most part, compared to their society, we might be considered the Great Vulgarians.

With such an incisive answer from someone so young, I was surprised; so surprised that I asked Elaine to please stay after class for a few minutes. She did, and we talked about some of her classes and what she was interested in pursuing as a career, and then we got on to literature. Again, I picked up on how she showed remarkable sensitivity for a freshman. During our little after-class conversation, she told me that she had already read Pride and Prejudice twice and enjoyed the production with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle—that other productions were not even close in capturing the expectations of the characters or the feelings and manners of the period. Complimenting her on her good literary judgment, I then asked her, just for fun, what about Shakespeare in Love?

Oh, she sighed, taking a step back and grasping her books firmly. Her blue eyes flashed, and she smiled a grand smile. It’s my favorite! She seemed to have a hard time containing her excitement that I’d even asked. I bet I’ve watched it over twenty-five times.

Mine too, mine too, I said, shifting from one foot to the other and smiling broadly—as though I were spilling a confession like the Russian spy in Peter Ustinov’s Romanoff and Juliet. I believe, Elaine, I have watched it over thirty times; and there’s a grand hidden story behind it all.

Our excitement turned us into two giggling chimpanzees. We nodded and grinned, looking at one another eagerly nodding yes, and more yes, yes with an occasional definitive, absolutely! Absolutely!

It was simply a delightful conversation, but, sadly, time ran away. I opened the door; politely, she excused herself and was off to her next class. Slightly turning her petite figure, she used her right hip to push open the hall door. She smiled like a movie star, gave a little wave, and was gone. I waved too and thought, What a muse! I watched her disappear and then walked in the opposite direction toward the exit. My, my, I thought, I’ve met a really beautiful and intelligent student. Yet, somehow, she is truly different, creative and curious; for sure, I like her.

***

As row call was taken, I leaned toward my friend Shaunna and said, This semester, we’re going to learn something from this guy. I already like him.

Shaunna looked at me like I’d lost it. Do you really like him?

I know, I know, he hasn’t said boo yet. But I liked him the first time I laid eyes on him! My silly insistence made us both giggle. I don’t know what came over me to mention something so bizarre; it was never a thing I just did. There were a few times in high school when I’d had a couple of fatuous, self-conjured situations, all wild imaginings of what if and what then. Neither of the two guys had any idea I was alive; if they’d had, they’d certainly kept it well hidden from me—utterly concealed, more like it. I knew nothing was ever going to develop with Professor DuBois; yet I really liked him. There’s just something about him…I couldn’t explain.

Why are you so interested? Shaunna whispered.

He’s cute. I eyed her back.

Agreed. She giggled once more and then turned to the books on her desk.

During our conversation about Darcy and Elizabeth, Professor DuBois really came alive. We were talking, thinking, relating thoughts and ideas, paralleling them from then to today; actually, we were communicating, and then he asked would I please stay after class. That’s when we started jousting back and forth then jumping into light banter. I really like him, I thought. He sees me; he knows I have something to offer. Both of us are crazy for Shakespeare in Love; I even think he loves it just as much as I do! I suppose that last part shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, it’s about a woman’s love and her creative inspiration for the man she loves as his muse—how they actually fall in love while playing at love, unknowingly trapped in each other’s idolatry until they suddenly realize that they are the game, and it’s real. Professor DuBois even admitted that he’s watched it over thirty times—and I thought I was obsessed at twenty-five viewings. I wondered what feelings of love he thinks about when he’s watching the film. Maybe he writes on the side; maybe he’s madly into poetry. Whatever, he’s got me beat. Maybe he’s subtly telling me that between us two odd ducks, he’s the odder one. That’s it—I bet he’s being modest. I like that in a guy.

3 - BRUNCH

Even though Elaine and I always talked after class, I never made any attempt to make a date where we would go out. So, I thought of what I believed to be the best bet: to meet at my place for brunch. I knew the timing would work out, seeing that I had no classes on Tuesday and Thursday until 3 p.m., and from talking with her, I knew her schedule was similar to mine. To my delight, she accepted my invitation for Thursday morning at 11 a.m.

It was a cool late February day, few clouds and still a lot of sunshine. Slowly, a little nervous, I began peeling bacon slices from their package, putting them into the frying pan, thinking intently about what I was doing. Maybe I’m kidding myself. After all, she’s twenty, and I’m thirty. Wouldn’t she prefer someone younger, nearer her own age?

No time to back out, reevaluate, though—she was knocking at the door.

My nervousness subsided as soon as she flashed me one of her grand smiles, and we had a really nice time talking about literature and her medical ambitions. Conversation carried on and varied as much as we liked. I complimented her on her sapphire necklace. She seemed surprised that I’d noticed, but, again, how could I not notice? It was beautiful and matched her eyes. I told her that the chain was a little too long and that perfect place for the gem was in the pool of love. She looked at me strangely, as if she never heard of this, and, in order to show her, I had to touch her. When I touched her, she startled.

***

Talking about diamonds, sapphires, and pearls, Peter told me that the perfect place for them was in the pool of love. I must have looked confused, because he came over to my side of the table and touched me gently first on one collar bone, then on the other. His finger then alighted ever so gently into the shallow divot, the pool of love between the bones, an incredible sensation. Right here, perfect, he whispered. For who could object to such a perfect place, for a diamond, a pearl, a lover gives to his girl, right here… He gently caressed the spot once again.

We looked into each other’s eyes. I must have been blushing, and who knows what else my expression said, because he quickly moved away, scared.

I was flustered. I breathlessly chided him for touching me. I told him that this was my body; it was my sacred place, my temple.

Softly, he told me that he wanted me to be comfortable with him, to trust him; he wanted me to give the first sign; to make the first move, nothing forced. He meant it. It had to be with my approval.

And so, it was. Like a Jane Austen character, when Peter first touched me, I backed away, scared of life itself, raising my protective barrier—the flash of fearful eyes and the retraction of my body. But what was absolutely true was I had a crush on him.

Brunch ended amicably if a little breathlessly, and we continued to walk and talk through the halls whenever we saw each other.

About six weeks later, when I had just left the Chase bank, my cell phone rang. It was Peter inviting me over for brunch. Can we try this again, he asked. I thought for split second then answered: Yes. I’ll be over in a few minutes. I just have to get some gas.

We had finished breakfast, and I was telling him that I could enroll at Arizona State in Phoenix and get on the accelerated pre-med to med school program, and instead of two years, I would be ready to move on to med school in one year. He was surprised. I told him so was I.

Wow, that’s quick, he said getting up from the table moving toward the coffee pot on the counter. Beginning to refill his cup, he suddenly stopped. What am I to do, Elaine? I will definitely miss you.

I blurted out, I love you Peter DuBois! Immediately, I was horrified by my pronouncement and searched for a justifiable reason. Platonic love, that is. I love you Platonically. Now you have it; now you know. And there it is.

Doubly surprised, Peter took a step back, amazed at what he had heard, and then came over to where I was sitting. Instinctively, ever so slightly, I raised my head to him; and so tenderly he kissed my forehead. I shivered and did all I could to maintain a cool calm; but my insides were churning, and my moral voice screamed: Get away from the table; get away from him before you helplessly rush into his arms.

Yet we each sat back and talked, gently, softly. A little later, gracefully, I excused myself; he walked me to the door, opened it, and as before, followed me to my car and held open that door too. His reaction was typical Peter: calm and reassuring. My dear, Platonic is good, and we have to grow into this.

And so, from two innocent breakfast conversations, something started to overtake us, like a descending veil or its magical removal. Whatever it was, it linked us more snuggly.

I had more than a strong attachment to Peter; I respected him, and our love grew as we slowly became more acquainted with one another’s emotions. From that time forward, whenever I looked at him, I knew that he earnestly loved me too.

4 - MALL MEETINGS

Every morning, five days a week, I walked the mall. Daily exercise had always been a part of my routine—either a mile or a mile and a quarter—and if I was feeling energetic, I added an extra quarter, giving me an accomplished mile and a half. It was a brisk but invigorating charge, lasting from sixteen to twenty-four minutes. I kept up that practice for twelve years. Before opening hours, the mall was a delightful place to walk: air-conditioned in the summer, heated in the winter, with no obnoxious stones or rocks to hinder movement.

One cloudy morning in early June, an hour and a half before opening, I saw a familiar figure unlocking the door to a stylish clothing boutique. I was quite surprised—so was Elaine. So, what do equally surprised people do when they unexpectedly meet? They talk. She was working as a temporary manager, to help save for med school. We chatted for a good twenty minutes until I realized that she had to check in, sign in, or punch a time card somewhere. Though she said it was no big deal, I excused myself. As I walked the second lap, I looked in, and we waved. The other two laps, I minded my own business.

After that, I saw her daily. Sometimes we just talked about this and that; if not, we gave a quick wave to each other through the window. Then it seemed that we ran into each other all the time—it was not unusual to see her somewhere at school that fall semester, walking down the hall or in the commons. The darling, attractive Elaine was, of course, always accompanied by some guy, talking, laughing. Despite my barely dormant feelings for her, it was nice to see her handle these interactions. Doubtless, she was a hot ticket; yet, the breathless girl who once shrank from a touch seemed totally in control.

***

Well, perhaps it was fate. Of all places, never did I ever expect to meet Peter at the mall. Every one of my friends told me it had just been a crush, and I should forget about it. I tried to adopt that mentality—Hello good-bye, that’s all, gone. But that was only to appease nosy friends and acquaintances, keeping them off balance.

However, Peter and his gentle kiss upon my forehead rarely left my thoughts. The memory remained fresh and vibrant during all our little chit-chats after class and even as we lost touch. And when I saw him that morning, I was really surprised—flustered to be honest. I had to get a hold on my thoughts and not act like some giddy schoolgirl, blaring embarrassing remarks. All my hidden feelings immediately raced back. Everything was jumping inside me, and I swear my heart surged two hundred beats per minute. I knew that often I flushed fierce excitement because I could feel it. Yet, I seemed to sense the same excitement in him.

That he was just as surprised to see me was obvious. His introduction was full of stops and stutters. And when I punched in, I was nearly thirty-five minutes late. When he walked by again, I confess, I was waiting, wanting to collar him, sit him down to just talk to him forever; instead, we waved, each minding our own business. All day I was excited by the thought that I would be able to see him again—the next day, even.

But it was the day after that he came by, saw the light was on, and knocked on the window. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I opened the sliding glass door. Immediately he apologized for keeping me so long in conversation during our first meeting. I said that I was as much at fault and had been as surprised by the sudden meeting as he.

That will have to be our excuse, I said.

It’s a good one. He smiled.

And we laughed nervously, complimenting ourselves as to how original and