He laughs. “There’s a reason they call these places ‘flea markets.’”
I shake my head and take in my surroundings; beautiful vintage dishware I couldn’t possibly bring home, a gorgeous full sized carousel horse and worn vintage jackets I would never try on, for fear that, yes, they might have fleas… or lice, or bedbugs.
We come to an interesting booth; a taxidermist; stuffed animals (not the fluffy cute kids’ kind, actual dead stuffed animals). There’s also a small wooden bin filled with actual glass eyes. Oscar picks up two and pops them in front of his eyes, completely freaking me out. I jump back a step and break out in laughter. The proprietor, a very old hippie type with long dirty silver hair shoots us the evil eye.
“I’m so sorry,” I offer. “Stop that, Oscar.”
Oscar gently sets the eye balls back in the bin. “We better get out of here,” he says quietly. “The guy looks like he wants to kill and stuff us.”
I smile. “Probably does.”
“I’m sure he has a basement full of stuffed people. He likes to dress them up and have tea with them.”
“Stop creeping me out, Oscar. You read way too much Stephen King.”
“Ah, c’mon. You love my odd little stories.”
I smile. I do.
“We’re going over to have crêpes,” Mom tells us cheerfully. “You two want to join us?”
My stomach growls at her words. I love crêpes.
We stand in line and chit-chat. Antoine tells us he only works three days a week, and that’ he’s originally from Avignon, in the South of France. I tell him I’ve always wanted to visit the south of France.
Oscar and I both order strawberry Nutella crêpes and I can’t wait to dig in. Since there are no tables, we must all find spots to sit. We get separated (kind of on purpose) and Oscar and I find ourselves on a bench, under a tree.
I dig in right away and savor my first bite. “Corrie would love these,” I tell him. “She loves Nutella.”
He smiles. “Who doesn’t?”
“True,” I agree, digging in again.
“What is Corrie up to today?”
“Oh, she didn’t want to tag along… she hates flea markets, said something about ‘old dirty junk’. She’s kind of a snob that way. She went to do some ‘real shopping.’”
He smiles. “Sounds like Corrie.” He pops a huge bite of crêpe into his mouth.
We enjoy our treat silently, and study the passersby; people from all backgrounds, from different parts of the world; so many interesting stories there, I’m sure. Oscar doesn’t have any clever tales because he’s too busy stuffing his face.
Finally, when he swallows his last bite, he smiles and gestures for me to hand him my empty plate. He throws both his and mine in the bin. “I have some exciting news to tell you.”
I sit up straighter, curious. “Yeah, what’s that?”
Idon’t know what it is, but I hope it doesn’t take you away from me.
“Well,” he starts, pausing for a long beat, seemingly unsure. I’m dying of curiosity.
“I never told you this before,” he goes on, and I’m completely glued to his words. “I’ve been saving up for quite a while.”
“Yes, I know how cheap you are,” I tease. “I’ve always thought it was because you have no money.”
“No, I have money… but I also have a plan.”
I’m on the edge of the bench. “Tell me!”
His grin is as big as I’ve ever seen it when he says, “I’m buying a coffee shop. Taking over the lease.”
