homeless marguerites - Part two

Julien was going to meet Annie for dinner in about half an hour and she was going to have just too many questions to ask him, just as usual. The little restaurant, “chez mammy”, where they used to dine over the last 3 months was one of Julian’s real favorites. There were always too little people who made you think and too little who thought about you; the perfect balance he desperately needed when he was meeting Annie Anderson. Annie, he had to admit, was a sweet girl; she was short tempered, talkative, intravagant of her own choice, more or less a stranger, from a world Julien would never get used to, but yet she was sweet. You could laugh at all the moments you passed with her, even if she took the moment to scare you to death or o torture you worse than your worst nightmares.
That was in fact, what Annie was to him, a reminder of the worst of his nightmares; and much more than that, she made lots of them come true again. The guy came visiting him again after long just two months ago and he has been dropping in on him every now and then ever since.
It was when he was finally made to plant the marguerites, he had found a nice place, a greenhouse where he had a good friend who would keep and hide them for him. He had found the seeds left from the old days and had taken them there with him.
He had taken the seeds out of his pocket, had taken a closer look at the soil, trying to remember how it had to be, when the guy had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
“Wagst du nun nur, sie mal nur einfach zu berühren!” he had said, clearly threatening.
Julien had had to back off; the guy was too strong for him to pick up a fight with. He was also much better at marguerites than him, so he just watched him do the job, and then he watched the marguerites, HIS marguerites, growing up over the two months.
And tonight, as he had called the restaurant to reserve the table he usually reserved for the two of them, he himself and Annie, the guy had come again.
He had been looking in the mirror, combing his hair after having taken a nice bath and saying his name on the phone. “Julien Lefevre, avec un e.” he had said, when he had suddenly found the guy looking at him. He had been unable to do anything but staring back as he had said: “Johann Schwarzinger” so clear that he still feared the table to be reserved at the guy’s name. He did not want to call the guy with his name; he had to remain the guy. Calling him with his name, calling him at all would just give him more strength, more courage and more credit; and this was the last thing Julien needed now that he knew the guy liked Annie Anderson.
He looked through the window, Annie was already sitting there. Did she know the guy? Did she like him? Did she love him? Was she searching for him all the time she passed with Julien? Did now Annie Anderson scare him as well? Was it time he had dated Annie for beating the guy before he could do anything?
In fact, Julien was even afraid of thinking about any of these questions. He gasped. He took a deep breath and leaving these thoughts behind him he entered the restaurant.