In His Sunday’s Best

It was a lukewarm afternoon and I was lugging my canvas tote filled with novels that I had conveniently hiked from the friendly neighborhood bookstore. My purse may have been empty but my bag wasn’t. It was filled with romance, fantasy and a few vamps for good measure. 

Despite a holey purse and sore high heeled feet, I felt light and excited to start poring into my new treasures. 

The moment I turned the corner was when I saw him, the gentleman stranger. 

He was in his Sunday’s Best. The white tuxedo jacket. Crisp white shirt. Black bow tie. Black trousers. Glossy brogues. We were at the traffic light. He had caught me staring. I was staring. And he had grinned at me. 

“I got you. You think I look good, right?”

He was so brazen with his estimation of himself and he wasn’t incorrect. My feminine upbringing of discretion and modesty was inclined to think he was arrogant and egotistical. My alter-ego however was veering towards how attractive his confidence looked. I wondered if I was to oppose his view of himself whether he would laugh and jest with me or not. I could swear on twenty dollars, he would. 

“Yes, you look suave.”

He raised an eyebrow seemingly impressed by my compliment. 

“If I can and if I may, might I add a complimentary note or two for you?”

“If I can and if I may, might I add a complimentary note or two for you?”

I nodded shyly, turning away from the last hour of orange gleam from the sun all the while trying not to stare at the beer bottles and cigarette butts lining the gutter. I was meaning to maintain eye contact with my conversationalist because it was good manners to do so. But his dashing appearance had caught me off guard. And rightly so. Excluding our dear sun. 

He had turned his back against the light. His stance with his hands in his pockets and the lapels of his tux across my eye level shadowed the last setting rays of the sun from above. He had taken a step forward to hide me from the glare. His broad shoulders overshadowed the strong and bright glint against my eyes. Despite his generous and fluid gesture, it was more in his favour than I. I saw the outline of his slender figure and his hair draping across his chin but that was all. I was sure with his height, he could see more of me than I of him. 

His attentiveness had not gone unnoticed. An older man with a cane and briefcase nodded at him. “My, you’re a chivalrous lad. Reminds me of when I met my wife.” He winked. He then turned to me and added in a hushed tone. “He is your shield. Tucking you away from the sun is all the more better for his eyes to admire you. The sun is never friendly to look upon a pretty face. Not if she is squinting. I am sure he will attest to the same.” 

Winking at me, he tilted his head toward my protector. “Here are some words from an older man to a young gentleman. Don’t whittle away your pennies on wine and oysters or your time admiring the belles and betties at the gentlemens’ club. Start by spending time with a beautiful girl who wants to look at you as much as you want to admire her.” 

With those famous last words, he tapped his cane on the ground before crossing the road and cussing a boy on an e-scooter whizzing past. 

Shuffling to and fro from one foot to another, I was starting to feel the pinch of my toes in my teetering pointy high heels. I was about to swap my tote bag from one arm to the other when ‘tuxedo boy’ took hold of it. 

“Let me,” he exclaimed. “I want to be of use to you.” 

“Well, aren’t you a hero,” I remarked, a little flushed. 

“Only taking words by an older gentleman from theory into practice, “ he beamed as he looped the bag straps over his shoulder. “Where shall we go, Miss?”

I wasn’t sure if I should take him home just yet and I hesitated in my reply. 

So I asked. “Where are you going dressed up so handsomely?”

He turned his head down towards me. “I was just going to a black-tie event, a charity gala of sorts.” He continued breezily as if it was non-consequential.

“I’ve decided to change course for my itinerary tonight. I’ve discovered more pressing matters at hand like escorting a beautiful lady home with her bounty of loot.” He narrowed his eyes in amusement.“Or to a corner of the street close to the lady’s home, if she so prefers.” 

I sighed and ignored his cheeky prod. Instead curiosity got the better of me. “Can you just skip an event like a charity gala?” 

I was surprised. Most of those events charged a specific sum per head for attendance. His empty seat would appear blank on his table of ten other attendees accompanied by a 6-course degustation menu. It would look dire on his account. 

“Would you like to accompany me to my social engagement?”

“Can I?” I asked. 

“I don’t see why not. We can read your books in the foyer or in the garden outside. I’ll have my name marked off the roster. I’ll ask the servers and busboys to deliver my plates to us. Why not?” 

He loomed over me with his proposition. He seemed like a boy who could get away with a lot. And who wouldn’t let him get away with everything? 

His mischievous dark eyes and straight Greek nose pointed down at me with an allure I could not resist. And so I didn’t.