”I don’t know how long I sat there, but I do remember turning away from the cafe, at some point, to look out of the window, and gaze at the twinkling lights of Paris.  I did glance up once or twice, to look at your reflection on the window, and drew comfort from knowing you were still there. I noticed that you were reading some kind of manuscript, writing on the margins. But when I wasn’t looking, somehow, I felt you continued to keep an eye on me, literally watching my back.”

“Anyway, after a while I finally stood up to thank you for your companionship. But I saw that you’d gone, though. The waiter who came over when I signaled to him said you had settled my bill, and had left instructions not to close the cafe.  You asked them to allow me to stay as long as I needed to. They also said you left a sizeable tip for them, as incentive.”

With a reflective smile, Bette confessed to Tina, “It touched me deeply, that you had extended me this kindness, at just the right moment I needed one. But it also saddened me that it was likely the last time I would ever see you again, this wonderful stranger who took care of me that awful night. By the look of you, I thought you were some French or European model, actress, or something, and maybe you did that all the time for crazy people who cry their eyes out in random cafés. But I hoped that you would know someday that what you did was special.   The waiter said you didn’t leave your name, and the front desk of the hotel said you may not have been a guest at the hotel.”

Tina blushed at Bette’s honesty in sharing with Tina her appraisal of her looks. French model, actress, or something, huh?

Bette continued to talk, “So last night, when you fell and I caught you, I thought when your hair fell forward across your face in just the same way it did that night in Paris, when you bent your head as you read, I was fairly sure it was you… it was just so familiar, almost a signature look.  And you confirmed just now that it was you.”