french for love

“Any of you guys got a cigarette?”

Aaron heard his voice echo through the room. For a while no one would answer his question or speak for that matter.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. It felt wrong. But what did he have to lose he thought, his life? What was life worth without his wife? Nothing! That is what it was worth before he found her and that is what it would be worth if she were to die. He had to get the 217,000 for Dana’s liver transplant and he decided he would get it by any means necessary, even if it meant robbing the fancy French restaurant on the corner of St Marks and Vanderbilt Ave, even if it meant confronting the police.

“I only have camel lights, is that ok?” a customer finally replied.

“Yeah that’s aight…”

“I’m going to reach into my jacket, that is where it is, ok?”

“Fine, just don’t… no sudden moves, or I will shoot you.”

The customer was a young man probably in his late twenties and the confidence with which he stared at Aaron was intimidating.

It was apparent to Aaron then that the plan was coming undone. A sudden shudder. A shaky hand that relieved the young man of his cigarette. His self-assurance was somehow crumbling now, even after all the nights he'd spent convinced he was vindicated.

Now in the heavy air of the restaurant, he was aware of the aura of desperation surrounding him. Customers crouched on the ground, some trembling, some stoic and each silent. Aaron held the cigarette between his thumb and index finger and watched them. He realized he didn't have a light but something caught in his throat before he could ask for one and he stood with his back against the wall and the cigarette dangling uselessly from his hand.

How did I ever believe that I had solved this?- How did I-

Aaron and Dana lived three blocks up the street. On the weekends after work, they'd often have walked by that same restaurant, watching the patrons eat on a patio or taking in the smells that drifted out. Inevitably, they'd end up back at their own small apartment, eating Chinese take out from greasy boxes.

But Dana liked the restaurant. She thought it was romantic and she'd dream of them eating there together.

"Our next paycheck, Aaron, let's go to Je t'aime."

Why did I always know we would never make it there?-

It occurred to him then, that despite its expensive wine list and the fancy clientelle that patronized it, Je t'aime would not be the answer to either his or Dana's problems that night. And that the cashbox in the back wouldn't have more than five grand in its drawer.