Leaving Madeleine - Part 3
I got off the metro one stop after the Japanese girl and walked to Le Danton . No one greeted me so I found a table at the window facing the street. A young male server approached. I ordered a café crème . He asked me if I would like to see the menu. “No,” I said. “Is André not working today?” I asked in French. “ Non ,” he said. “Are you Evan?” he asked in English. “ Oui. C’est moi .” “He left a letter for you. I will go to get it.” He held on to the menu. “French onion soup and a ham and cheese, that’s right?” I smiled. “That’s right. But just the coffee for now.” “ Bon . I will bring you the coffee and the letter.” I nodded and he went to do as he said. I had been coming to Le Danton to write for almost a year now. Madeleine would chide me about going to the Latin Quarter. She’d tell me it was a cliché and no longer a place for artists, but for wannabes and tourists. I’d tell her that I didn’t care and I liked it anyway. I liked the people and the atmosphere an...