Edinburgh

James and Isabelle arrived in Edinburgh in the early afternoon. James parked the Cooper Mini in a parking lot across from Jenners Department Store.

“I have a wee bit of shopping to do before we go home. I haven’t started my Christmas shopping yet,”James winked at Isabelle and pulled her into a long kiss.

James and Isabelle got out of the car and walked to the corner to cross the street. As they walked, Isabelle noticed a man across the street sporting a kilt, a motorcycle jacket and a blue mohawk. She snickered to herself. James noticed him as well.

“We Scots take out kilts very seriously,” he jested. Isabelle moved closer to him and James put his arm around her as they began to walk. She could smell the patchouli on his beard as her cheek brushed against it. James took her hand and led her into Jenners, an antique looking department store whose facade was built in the early 1800’s. As they walked inside, there are two well dressed women at a table with bottles of Scottish whiskey and shot glasses laid out. James walked over with Isabelle and handed her the already poured small glass.

“Whiskey in a department store?” Isabelle asked.

“Yes. It’s a tradition!” James smiled slyly.

Isabelle took the glass to her lips and felt the warm burning go down her throat. When she put the glass down, James took her hand and ran her out of the store.

“Where are we going?” she cried

“It’s a surprise!” James yelled behind him.

Finally, they started to walk down a hilly street and then across a bridge that went over a canal. After walking for about ten minutes they stopped in front of an old record store and James opened the door and led her inside. There were crates of vinyl records all over the store. James went right over to the counter and started talking with the clerk and, soon, they were hugging and talking very quickly in a thick Scottish slang that Isabelle could barely comprehend. James signaled Isabelle to come over and join them.

“Izzy, this is Seamus, my old boss. He runs this place–I used to work here when I was younger.”

Isabelle smiled at Seamus.

“Do you have any Billie Holiday or Oscar Peterson in?” James asked.

Seamus walked over to the red plastic milk crates and began to flip through a stack of records until he found an old ‘33 of Billie Holiday.

“Here you go mate,” He smiled, handing it to James. After that, they wandered around the shop and left with five albums.

“How old were you when you worked there?” Isabelle asked.

After they left, James showed Isabelle more of Edinburgh –the old side and the new side. The buildings had a patina to them, as if age had crept in and was stealing them away from their very foundations.

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As James took Isabelle out of the city and into the countryside, she noticed how hilly everything was. James parked the Cooper Mini out in front of this old brick house with black shudders. It reminded Isabelle of some of the homes by Cranbrook–the kind of house that housed ladies who played bridge on Thursday nights while their husbands went to the club to have a drink. James helped Isabelle out of the car and she followed him through the gate and to the front steps of the house. He rang the bell and a woman in her fifties with short red hair answered, her face lighting up the minute she saw us.

James’ mother had a very kind face and when she smiled, she did it with her whole self–even her eyes lit up like two firecrackers. She was a medium height and had a slender figure.

“Hello Isabelle! James has told me a bit about you…it will be so nice to get to know you better!” she smiled.

James had spoken of his mother on many occasion. He was very close to her because she raised him alone after his father died when James was twelve. James’ father had made a good living, so they were left to fend for themselves with a bit of ease.

“Do you sing tonight, Mum?” he asked.

“Oh yes, George has me starting about eight,” she said.

James smiled to himself.

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As evening set in, James and Isabelle put the Billie Holiday record on an old turntable that James had in his room. The din of Billie Holiday wafted through the room and James pulled Isabelle close. His hand tousled her hair and his mouth opened to hers. She could feel his hands move along the line of her body. Slowly, James removed her sweater and felt the heft of her breasts in his hands. It was as if they became buried in one another when they began to make love. The way James moved in her, the way the moment carried them into a place where they became transported seemed to wash over everything.As they laid in his bed, Isabelle rested her head on James’ chest.

“What did you dream of when you were growing up in this room?”

“Yes. I wanted to see the world,” he said.