New York's Opera Society Chapter 2

On that day for some reason unknown even to me I got a hankering to go to the Polish restaurant on 77th street and 8th avenue, the one my mother had once recommended to me as being both good and fast.
Finding the place was not hard as l had passed it by many times on my way to “The Met” and when I did, I saw that it was a well lit modern styled diner where I took a stool at the bar as is my habit of doing when eating in this sort of establishment by myself.
Once seated, I picked up a copy of the menu which was lying on the counter in front of me and started glancing through the choices when suddenly from my sitting position, l looked up to see a tall waitress with long black hair standing directly above me, staring more at my black tuxedo then at me.
Her stare gave me an uneasy feeling as I shyly looked at this young lady who greeted me by saying “good evening sir, may I take your order?”. I noticed she had a worried expression on her face as if it were her first day on the job so I replied “good evening” as I tried to make her relax by reading the name on her nameplate which was Małgorzata but judging from the way she giggled as I tried to pronounce it, I must have made a real mess of it. She looked at me with a smirk on her face and said “please call me Gosia”. It was at that moment that I noticed what a lovely face she had, hers was an old fashioned kind of beauty, reminiscent of the "The Age of Innocence".
I then said in a light tone of voice, trying to speak slowly and clearly, as I looked her in the eye “I take it that given your name and accent that you are a foreigner. where are you from?” Her face lit up as she said 'this is Polish restaurant, where you think I am from? To which I replied "I don't know, let me take a guess Poland". she then half laughingly replied "Yes, now may I take your order". I then put the menu down on the counter, while still holding it in my hands and uttered" why don’t you recommend something from Poland the land of Wałęsa, the Pope, Copernicus, Kazimierz (The Great) and Chopin and the Mazurka. She almost burst out laughing by the time I got through my list, perhaps because she expected me to share that common knowledge or lack of it which was held by most Americans concerning the rest of the world, but she did manage to keep her composure just long enough to recommend bigos ,causing me to ask with a beam on my face “what is it?”. “ Cooked cabbage” was her response and upon looking at her face and seeing how strongly she was recommending this dish I just could not tell her that I really did not like cabbage all that much but I thought to myself, might as well take it, after all how bad can it be. "Sure why not" was what I said which I don’t think she really understood so I rephrased it into "I will take the bingos" she laughed and put her hand in front of her mouth probably to cover her teeth as she said "it is called bigos not bingos" to which I replied “O.K., I will take the bigos and a soup, can you suggest one?”. She then said in bad English, as she was jotting down my order in her pad, “I very like red barsh, I hope you it will like you too”. I managed to understand her despite her erroneous use of English grammar. I half laughingly (more at her English then at her) replied "yes I will take it". She then said in a slightly more serious tone of voice as though she were trying to remind herself that she was at work "maybe something to drink, maybe you try our Polish beer" "sure give me one" I replied. Now in an even more serious tone as if she were concluding a business deal (with the face to match the added gravity her voice had gained) she said "you order one bigos plate and red barsh soup and one E.B. Polish beer" to which I replied "yes, that is correct", she then with a sigh of relief almost like someone who had just passed an important examination, turned to go to the kitchen giving me a chance to catch a glimpse of the back of her well tanned legs which I could tell were stocking covered.
I then started thinking as I saw her disappear into the kitchen, that I used to be very good at playing Chopin's Mazurkas but it had been a long time since I had actually played one, after all I was studying and working toward becoming an opera tenor, and the piano was no longer an instrument that I was required to practice.
5 minutes must have gone by, when Gosia came back and asked me "where from you know so much about Poland? Is your family Polish?. “No, not at all my family is German American, my name is Bill Albert, though my last name is not really German” was my reply and attempt to be as friendly toward her as she was trying to be toward me.
She then enthusiastically asked "before you say the name Chopin, you know Chopin's music? Have you heard it?”, which led to my telling her of the intimacy of my relationship with not only classical music but opera. She seemed to be impressed by both my part-time job as singer in the chorus of the Metropolitan Opera and by my being a student in his last year of studies at the New York School of Music.
Her following comment “now, I see why you wear suit, you go to opera to sing” caused certain laughter in me as I probably would have thought the same thing had I been her, however I did inform her that as much as I would have wanted to be performing that evening, I was only going to be very devotedly watching “Gotterdammerung” live for the 5th time.
She then startled me by telling me with a voice that reflected the tremendous pride she must have been feeling, that she had been studying the piano since she was 6 and that she had been a student at the "The Warsaw School of Music" named after Chopin and that she was looking to do her postgraduate studies in New York. I asked her if she had any particular school in mind, to which she replied “Julliard School of Music”.
I then remarked that though Poland had had great composers such as Chopin as well as great virtuoso piano players the likes of Arthur Rubenstein and Ignacio Paderewski, they did not have any of their own operas. When she heard this, she could not help but laugh. Her laughter was such that it was heard all throughout the restaurant, causing a head or two to look up in order to see what all the commotion was about. She even caught the attention of the owner, who came over to her and said something in Polish in a tone that implied that she was given her an order not to make such a raucous, to which she replied something in Polish (which l also did not understand) to the owner, who was a plump middle aged woman with a round sun burnt face, clear blue eyes, a large nose and small lips. When this lady finished hearing what Gosia had said she turned to me and said in a mock tone of voice "what you study music and you not know our great Polish operas like "Halka" and "Haunted Manner" by Moniuszko”. At that moment I really did not know what to say so I simply said in an almost apologetic tone of voice that I did not know that there was such a thing as Polish opera however I would be very much interested in hearing it. This lady then introduced herself to me as both Pani Beata and the owner of the place. After her introduction she said something to Gosia who turned to me and said “excuse me” and went to the kitchen. While she was gone Pani Beata said in quite tone of voice almost as though she did not want Gosia to hear "next week will be Polish opera "Halka" in Carnegie Hall, why you no take Gosia, I think she like you and you like she, maybe you teach she good English and she teach you Polish language" ,Just before I had a chance to say anything Gosia came back carrying a big tray with my order.
Gosia placed my soup and Bigos on the counter which was accompanied by a large serving of mashed potatoes and a cucumber salad and a can of beer which she poured into a large beer mug. Pani Beata suddenly turned to Gosia and said "why you no go with this gentleman to opera to Halka". Gosia’s face turned red upon hearing this, maybe because she was being put in an uncomfortable position of having to accept or reject an invitation by someone who had not even made one. She said something to Pani Beata in Polish, to which Pani Beata replied in English as if she were trying to tell Gosia that there was no need to speak Polish because there was no reason why l should not understand what they were saying “I saw this opera before, he did not see it, he say he want to see it. Maybe you go together and he teach you English (and then suddenly looking at me) and you learn Polish language". Without realizing it at that moment we had been set up on a date to go to the opera, which we both in a shy way agreed to go on, as if the decision had been made for us by this well meaning but intrusive lady called Pani (this word meaning Mrs. in Polish) Beata, who most people seemed to take a liking to.
I told Gosia that I would get the tickets through my credit card so we exchanged phone numbers, agreeing to call each other the following day. After that the place started filling up and I got to eating my meal. Gosia no longer had time to chat with me because all her tables were now occupied with fresh new customers. I did not enjoy the food as much as I did watching Gosia's long legs as she ran to the kitchen and back. She moved so sensually that it was difficult to remember that I had a meal in front of me which I had to finish in 20 minutes in order to have enough time to make it to the opera on time. Gosia must have known I was staring at not only her legs but at the band that held up her stockings (I later found out that they are called pończochy in Polish) visible due to the slit on her mini skirt, because she flashed a smile at me every chance she got.
When it came time to pay the tab, Gosia said that I would not be charged for the desert (which had been a slice of what they called Polish apple pie which tasted no different then American apple pie). She said she wanted to do this because I was going to invite her to see "Halka".
I don’t remember weather or not l thanked her for the apple pie but l do recall leaving her a tip which exceeded the standard 16 % which is left by most restaurant goers in America, she thanked me as l quickly said goodbye to her and Pani Beata (whom strangely enough everybody called Pani even her customers and employees, some of whom were not even Polish).
I left the diner after having said my goodbyes and all I could think of was the sight of Gosia and how her incredible womanly body had captured my interest in the way no other woman had, this is not to say that I had not been in love before (not that l was in love now) or that I had not been with other women before. This time however it was different or at least it seemed to be. In a way every relationship I had had before had been different and special in its own way but this was the first time l had felt so much raw sexual desire to any one woman, perhaps this was due to the way she looked which was not pretty or even beautiful but naturally sexy in every way from the way she walked to the clothes she wore, to her corpulent body or perhaps it was the way she acted, so playful almost childlike in the way she had smiled at me when she looked at me when she was rushing in and out of the kitchen and the way she had grinned at me when she caught me starring at her legs.
Another factor which added to these strong sexual impulses was that our conversation had been a bit limited, giving her poor English and my complete ignorance of the Polish language. I even got to thinking that apart from sexual magnetism (assuming she felt the same about me) the only thing we had in common was our ambition to get to the top of the heap in classical music.