How absurd does that sound? I found the nearest seat as my Dad made his way to Grandma. ‘Excuse me, are you Kisara’s daughter?’ The voice had a heavy French accent. I looked up to see an older, slightly overweight man with a horrible comb over and a thin mustache standing before me. I had never seen this man before. ‘Yes I am.’ ‘I knew you were. You look just like Kisara when I met her 25 years ago.’ The man extended his hand. ‘I’m Jacques Bertrand and I am truly sorry for your loss.’ I shook his hand, puzzled over who this man was. ‘Tsukiumi and thanks.’ I looked to where my Dad was, hoping he’d come over. ‘May I sit Mademoiselle?’ The Frenchman tilted his head and pointed to the empty seat next to me. ‘Sure.’ I didn’t want to be rude, so I was going to wait a moment before excusing myself to the restroom. ‘Your mother was a remarkable woman.’ Remarkable, that’s not the word I’d use. ‘She saved my life 25 years ago in Paris without being asked or any want of compensation. She just. I mean what the fuck Uncle Marty, what’s a guy to do?” Junior asked while shrugging his shoulders and holding his hands out upward.As Junior was telling me this, I was picturing his wife Lynn, who was his polar-opposite in that she was a much more sophisticated city girl and he was a total country boy. She was very shapely and religiously hit the gym every morning to stay that way. Her tight little ass in those yoga pants always caught the attention of everyone she walked past not to mention her perky d-cup breasts that provided ample cleavage in any top or dress she wore. I never understood how the two of them got together or what Lynn saw in Junior but apparently, she saw something that made her heart zing.“Uncle Marty?” Junior asked as I was lost in my thoughts.“Oh I’m sorry, Junior, I was just thinking about what you said,” I quickly replied and then I did a bit of a core dump on everything I knew about women and married life and then I looked up and saw Junior just standing.
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