I was driving in Christel's two-seater, convertible sports car as we drove to her villa and parked in a concrete garage at the back of the property.
We were walking towards the mall where we were going to have breakfast when suddenly I realized I had forgotten my wallet at home. Embarrassed, I old Christel it was the first time I’d ever done that and said I could pay for breakfast with the banking app on my watch.
As I reached inside the front pocket of my denim shorts, I noticed some of my wallet’s contents––my I.D. and a few photos––were there held together by a rubber band.
At the mall, I noticed Christel had cut her long strawberry blonde hair short, but I liked it and thought it suited her.
Then, spontaneously, we stopped in the middle of the crowd of busily scattered shoppers and shared our first kiss, one which, despite the feeling my nervousness prohibited my best effort, Christel seemed to enjoy.
After breakfast, we walked over to the pier and Christel said she needed to run home for a moment to do something and would be right back, that I should go on and find a good spot for us on the beach, one not too close to the shore.
Having to walk through the pier house, I noticed I was inside the cafeteria and decided to take a tray so I wouldn't feel awkward or out of place.
I filled a bowl with soup and took a white Kaiser roll, pat of butter and a bottle of water and sat down at a long communal table between two middle aged women who were eating their lunch.
I then took my tray to the trolley and a nice young woman at the till asked me what I had. I told her a bowl of soup, roll and butter; she said it would be forty-five cents. But no sooner did I hand her over a fistful of coins that I remembered the bottle of water. Telling her, and apologizing for the oversight, the young woman shrugged and said it was okay and wished me a fine day.
When I arrived the beach, I noticed Christel was already there setting up beach chairs and unpacking towels from her large colorful beach bag. I also noticed, to my surprise, her daughter was there, already laying down on a lounger listening to music with headphones.
Christel came over to me and kissed me, making sure her daughter saw it so she would know we were in a romantic relationship. Christel, who was holding a twenty-euro note, said excuse me for moment and walked over to a giant of a man sitting close by and handed him the bank note; he got up and tried giving her back the money saying it was because he had offender her, not knowing she had a boyfriend.
As we settled into our cozy beach nook, Christel introduced me to her daughter, who was called Jackie-Lynn; she said she wanted to name her Jacqueline, but that her mother loved Jackie Kennedy Onassis, so she named her daughter Jackie-Lynn; I asked the girl how old she was and she replied six, though I was certain judging by her looks and demeanor that she must have been a teenager just being sassy with her reply.
Christel came over and sat beside be; she held my hand and gazed deeply into my eyes. Thinking she was about to speak-––perhaps, as I had imagined, to say something deep, romantic and moving––she merely reached into her beach bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and began applying it to my face and, chest and arms.
Then I woke up.
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