Bittersweet
He recognized her distinctive accent, Irish, that had really never gone away even though her family had left Ireland when she was just a child. It had been twelve years since Mr. Dupond had seen Shannon. Back then, things were simpler. Shannon was preparing to go to university in the fall. Mr. Dupond still taught the subject he loved, along with teachers he had befriended, at a school where none of his students threatened to kill each other and meant it.
Shannon had planned just to order a latte, go home, and clean up from her twins’ spontaneous demonstration of finger-painting.
Mr. Dupond had been sitting with a danish and a good book, in one of the tall stools at the counter of the cafe.
He looked up from his novel, wondering if he should say anything. Shannon noticed him staring and had an instant flash of recognition. Her face broke into a smile. Collecting her latte, she strolled over.
“Shannon?”
“It’s been too long, Mr. Dupond.”
“Oh, please. Call me Luc.”
“Alright. It seems so strange.” Shannon settles in a stool beside him.
He smiles. “I feel that I have stayed exactly the same as the day you graduated and you have changed so much. Look at you,” he muses.
Shannon disagrees. There is an abundance of new wrinkles on his face to match the crow’s feet beginning to appear on hers. She notes that his hair is beginning to grey. He seems smaller than she remembers.
“Are you still teaching?” she asks.
“Yes, over at Harnom on the South side. Ironically, I teach English.”
“Wow. That must take some adjusting to.”
“I moved there with high hopes of rebooting their French program, but there wasn’t enough interest.”
She nods understandingly, “The thought of learning a whole new language is very scary for most people. I wasn’t even going to take French but my parents forced me into one semester.”
“You never told me that, Shannon. You were my most inspirational student. You worked so hard to do well. I’ve wished all my students were like that.”
Shannon smiles self-consciously. “Honestly, the first year, I just wanted to maintain my 90 average. I planned to drop the class the next year.”
Luc chuckles. “Though you stuck it out in my French class for all four years. Not many students with no background in French give up the elective or a spare. So what did you do after high school?” he questions eagerly.
“Well, I was three years into my law degree when I met my husband,” she flashes her gold band, a diamond tucked discretely into the ring. “Then, things got crazy, we got married and bought a house. I got pregnant, so I took the year off from school. I have twins,” she pulls out a picture from her wallet of two girls, identical. Luc notices they share their mother’s emerald green eyes and strawberry blonde hair.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. I have a son, too. A couple years younger than the girls.”
“Congratulations. Did you ever complete your degree?”
Shannon sips her latte. She shakes her head. “I haven’t had the time.”
“Did you go to France? Or Quebec, like you wanted to? Use some of your French?”
She sighs, “Never had the money when I was in university. And I’d have to take my children if I went now. They’d be heartbroken if I didn’t.”
Luc Depond doesn’t reply. He thinks it’s a shame. He realizes that they now have nothing in common but the past. They shift uncomfortably in their seats, no longer the people they were twelve years ago.
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