The Story of Ghassan and Alexandra - Part 3

As spring swept through Germany leaving fields of yellow wildflowers in its wake, the streets of Stuttgart were alive with people enjoying the warm sunshine. Ghassan was no exception in joining in this spring celebration. Although the winter had been milder than he had expected, it had still been damp and cold and, for him, quite uncomfortable. As he lifted his face to greet the sun he couldn’t help but smile. But the smile quickly faded as his thoughts turned to Alexandra, as they often had over the passing weeks. She had never called.

The days after Ghassan had first set eyes on Alexandra at the restaurant he had been filled with anticipation. But as time passed without hearing from her, the anticipation slowly turned to disappointment. Weeks later he had lost hope of ever seeing her again. He figured that he only had himself to blame. He deemed his actions at the restaurant brash and impulsive. He wished he could turn back the clock to that night. He wished he could have treated her with the gentleness and courtesy that he thought she deserved.

Ghassan set out on a slow stroll through his neighbourhood toward the marketplace. He enjoyed the market. It reminded him of the suqs at home; fresh meats and produce, flowers and trinkets. On this day, it was particularly busy; people bustling about with packages, street performers, and children playing amongst the stalls and crowds filled the area with a joyous cacophony. Ghassan rested at an outdoor café to watch, as he so enjoyed doing, while sipped on European coffee. He could feel his spirits lifting.

One of the stalls was overflowing with flowers. The white hair of a small elderly woman, presumably the merchant, could barely be seen behind the rows of bright colours. Ghassan smiled to himself as he imagined this tiny woman harvesting and hauling all of those flowers to the centre of town. She would make a modest amount by evening at which time she would again pack everything up – hopefully minus the flowers – and head home. She would repeat this week after week. How many years had she been doing this? Was there anyone to help her? Was she a kindly, old woman or hard and bitter? He decided at that moment that he needed to buy some flowers.

As Ghassan walked toward the stall, several other customers also crowded over the dazzling merchandise touching their delicate petals and inhaling their sweet aroma. To his surprise, the elderly merchant rounded the stall with agility to match his own. Her deeply wrinkled face broke into the warmest smile and her bright eyes twinkled. She politely greeted her customers and gently guided them in their choices. Shortly thereafter their purchases reflected her salesmanship.

Ghassan approached the flowers in order to get her attention. He allowed their collective scent to fill his airways. Their delightful perfume was intoxicating. He wished at that moment he had someone with whom he could share their beauty, someone he could give them to.

“Guten tag. Can I help you sir?” she cooed from beside him. “Something for the pretty lady?”

Ghassan could not help but look surprised. Had his facial expressions reflected his thoughts of Alexandra to the extent an old woman, a stranger, could recognize? He had intended to buy flowers but only as a way to further his study of this woman whom he now believed far wiser than he could have imagined.

“Yes, yes of course. What do you suggest?” Ghassan attempted to speak as smoothly as he could muster.

“Red, dear, accented with a touch of purple. And, of course, blue to highlight her eyes.” The woman replied easily.

Ghassan was flabbergasted. “How? How did you know?”

The woman smiled tenderly and looked beyond him. Suddenly a hand rested gently on Ghassan’s lower arm and he heard the softest of Scottish lilts.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, Ghassan.”

Beside him and looking up at him with eyes that glistened like the sea was Alexandra. (to be continued)