River Flow

It was Henry's idea. "I'll get you two back together yet!" he threatened, the eternal optimist.  He managed to obtain printed invitations to the premiere of the latest film directed by S., her favorite filmmaker, a film that received an award at the Berlin Film Festival, Silver Bear or something, and on the back of the folded card he wrote inviting her to come see it with us who'll wait for her at the Bertolli's Cafe by the riverside, promising that S. himself will attend the premiere,  "us" only implying my presence, he stuck a stamp on the envelope and dropped it in the mailbox.  The film, like all foreign films nowadays, wouldn't last a week at a theater.  The 60s are over, Americans won't or can't read English subtitles any more

We arrived early at Bertolli's, ordered cappuccinos and waited.  15, 20 minutes, after the appointed time, half hour, she doesn't show up.

"Maybe she's spending the Holidays with her son's family in Berlin," I suggested. Her son, who, as she once informed me,  wished mommy would get back together with his father whom she had divorced, was a young brain virtuoso on a semi-permanent diplomatic or CIA connected mission in Germany.

"Holidays are a month away," answered Henry.

It was late afternoon and we still had plenty of time before the movie show. "Let's walk over to her apartment", said Henry.  She lived in an apartment on Riverside Drive, not half a mile from Bertolli's.  We walked at a fast clip.

"The river flows against us," I observed as if I had just stumbled onto a deep philosophical truth.

"Yeah," replied Henry, "but when we return with her, it'll run with us!"

I rang the doorbell, rang it again, an old man, unshaven, wearing pajamas opened the door.  Night worker?

"What?" he said.

Was it her notorious philandering, wandering father?  I guess not.

"No, she doesn't live here any more, moved out nine months ago, I don't know where to. Her mail?  The post office forwards it, they know the address."

We stepped back on the street and rushed back to Henry's parked Jeep, running faster than the lazy river beside us. S. didn't show at the premiere, only the producer and one of the actors, who, strangely enough, lisped a little, whereas his diction in the film was perfect.

"If she's in Germany," offered Henry, "she'll watch it with German subtitles."

"Or dubbed into German which she doesn't speak!", I added.  "That'll teach her!"

"That'll learn 'er!", corrected me Henry in his best Yosemite Sam voice.