April 30, 2004
finished first draft: (very quickly)
finished second draft: May 10, 2004, 3340 words
finished third draft: May 28, 2004, 2996 words
finished fourth draft: June 7, 2004, 3146 words
finished fifth draft: August 17, 2004, 3419 words
finished story, August 27, 2004, 3483 words
AYou bet your sweet ass!@
The invitation came in the mail folded inside a small yellow envelope bearing a USPO stamp, no return address and my name hand written in purple ink. So, who writes letters any more? Even wedding invitations drop into my Outlook Express >In= box. I didn=t recognize the writing and it wasn=t my birthday and no event of any significance that I was aware of was approaching, so, naturally, I was curious. The flap was well sealed, like a machine would do, not a tongue. With that discovery I felt my disappointment rising. Still, whoever sent it knew I wouldn=t just throw it out...not with a hand lettered envelope. On closer inspection, the lettering looked more like print than ink. Well. It was an announcement from a nearby restaurant which said, without apparent irony, AWe=re going out of business. If you love food, this is good news.@ I laughed. I could recall the restaurant...mediocre food but a great location, a renovated old drugstore. The card continued, AWe are preparing a dining experience you will never forget. None like it ever, not even close...we guarantee! Even our severest critics would find this special offering unforgettable.@ The chef/owner was a non-professional, a successful business type who retired early and thought he could succeed at anything. The restaurant opened with fanfare a year ago, its ads appeared regularly in all the local mags and newspapers until the bad reviews made them an embarrassment. So now, a year later, they were closing. There were complaints about too many dishes being over salted, about cups and glasses tasting of soap, about slow, rude service...even the best restaurant in town couldn=t survive those assaults. AWe@ it went on loftilyAare planning a prix fixe meal for fifty people for fifty dollars. Drinks extra. No one allowed in after 7:30PM. Positively our last day! RSVP now.@ It went on to describe the dinner, which sounded great. The price was right; the evening open. So I RSVP=d. Looking twice at the envelope I was certain it wasn=t hand written at all; just a cute, deceptive font.
The day of the dinner was cloudy and wet from morning on. It was carry-over weather from the day before and a week before that. Spring rains flooded our streets, cooled our hearts and made us sensuous. For almost two weeks, morning and afternoon, low clouds lay like an opaque grey batting creeping over the city; light winds rippled the surfaces of shallow black puddles formed by dozens of broken sidewalks and uneven street surfaces. About six the sky was a matte orange. The drizzle petered out, the wind died down to a cool breeze and I lost my excuse for not going. By seven, the sky cleared to a subdued turquoise; the sun retreated escorting the April night into nearby trees. Since my umbrella is almost as wide as the sidewalk, I decided to walk the few blocks to the restaurant
It was seven twenty when I arrived. Surprisingly, the restaurant was packed; I assumed others would approach this dinner with the same doubts I had and that seating would be plentiful. There was nothing of a Agoing-out-of-business@ look about the place. Each tableBand there were about fifteenBwas covered with a pressed white cloth and matching napkins folded into an intricate spiral. The center piece was a small fresh flower in a stem vase. The lighting was intimately dimmed without being dark. Bow-tied wait staff looking very efficient either scurried around busily or lined the walls like guards. I was led to the only unoccupied table visible, near the middle of the room. It looked like I was the only one eating alone. I recognized a few people from the neighborhood; we nodded and smiled at each other. Most were strangers. To my left sat an exquisitely dressed couple looking completely out of place. Where everyone else, including me, was dressed casually, this jewel-like couple looked like they took the wrong turn to Buckingham Palace. The man wore a Scott Fitzgerald tuxedo with tails, satin lapels and a wing collar; his sparking shirt front was fastened with gold studs and French cuffs stood out two inches from his jacket arms. He had thick blonde hair combed straight back without a part, every strand perfectly trimmed to match the others. How he was able to shave so closely with three prominent dimplesBone in the chin, two each cheekBwas a secret of the beautiful people, as were his perfect tan, lacquered nails and a parade of teeth white as paste and shiny as his patent leather shoes.
His companion was gorgeous, easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in the flesh, a majestic, red headed Venus. And she sat not four feet away, smiling friendly like at everyone. Her bare arms and shoulders, flawlessly tanned, emerged from a sleeveless green evening gown like radiant flowers from tropical forest. Her dress was styled simple, Helen of Troy would be at ease within it. The dress was draped rather than worn The bodice plunged sharply in the middle, like the bow of the Queen Mary, revealing creamy butter scotch cleavage; in an off hand gesture to modesty the curve turned upward, left and right, to almost cover each breast in a teardrop shaped wing supported by a single strand of spider=s web. The sides opened to her waist. She wore a diamond necklace, diamond bracelets and diamond rings. Her hair was pinned back in an elegant chignon, like a prima ballerina=s.
They sat at ease, talking quietly, tuned to each other, ignoring all of us who could not help watching them. Of all the people in the restaurant these two were totally absorbed in each other. None of us existed for them. Everybody loves lovers. On their table, a bottle of red wine wearing a knot of napkin like a bib sat within easy reach and a bottle of champagne cooled in a tall chiller nearby. Incongruously, they slurped not sipped. This little flaw made them human. And they laughed a lot.
Dinner was served promptly at 7:30. As if on signal, a platoon of waiters emerged from the kitchen each carrying a large tray of food. It was funny the way they did it, as if choreographed, everything was brought out at once. This involved waiter Aspecialist@ :soup waiter, salad waiter, water waiter etc. The whole meal was laid out before us, even the dessert. I was alone at my table and so I just spread it all out; but at other tables sat three or four persons so there was shuffling and momentary good natured confusion trying to make everything fit. I imagined it was like being in an expensive boarding school dining hall. This was certainly different and rather fun. We all began eating at once and a normal restaurant murmur filled the room. I even tasted my dessert--a simple but delicious flan--before anything else.
My salad and soup were finished when the well-dressed couple to my left caught my attention by making a little distracting noise. They had been quiet for a while so I forgot them totally. It wasn=t much of a distraction, just a slight rise in tone, but enough for me to notice since my table was closer to theirs than any other. I looked up but saw only that the woman stared at the man with an unrelentingly grim expression. I had just turned back to my dinner when the sharp clatter of a utensil hitting a plate made myself and several diners take note. It was the royal couple. Now both of them sat stiffly facing each other. The man held a fork and knife in either hand, white knuckled; he was leaning forward slightly and speaking in a low, hoarse whisper words I could not make out, but the guttural tones he made sounded threatening. The woman was listening edgily. She appeared repentant, hands in her lap, head somewhat bowed, but wary; a fork lay awkwardly across her salad plate. As I watched, her eyes narrowed to fine slits and her sensuous red lips formed a silent snarl. A marital dispute, a lover=s tiff had just come to an end. Whatever it was about, chalk one up to the husband. Just as I turned back to my meal I heard the woman say in a sharp stage whisper that resonated throughout the room, AFuck you, Henry!@
Heads turned. The man seemed stunned at first, then laughed out loud. He repeatedly swung his entire upper body to and fro, like he was taking a bow for some grand accomplishment. Relaxing back into his chair with one residual gasps of hilarity, he poured himself more wine, ignoring the woman=s near empty glass. She quickly emptied the last few drops in her glass and set it down with a thud in front of his dinner plate. I glanced around to see if anyone else was tuned in to this spectacle; eating came to a halt; those without a clear view strained to see past diners in front. AOh, >scuse me, baby,@ he said. There were no more attempts at stage whispers. He poured a small amount of wine into her glass. Her hand never left the stem, her eyes fixed on his. AYou=re such a gentleman, Henry,@ she said in a very normal voice that belied the fierce look in her eyes. She gulped the wine down, banged the glass again. ARefill,@ she demanded. ALush,@ he responded with a mean smile, filling her glass to the very top. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. She looked around the room at the three or four tables encircling their own. Making eye contact with me she smiled a sugary smile and commented, AWonderful weather we=re having.@ Just that. I was too surprised to reply. She repeated the same sentence twice more to people at other nearby tables. ALeave the people alone, lush,@ ordered the man. ADon=t bother the goddam people. Gulp your wine and be quiet.A
At this there were a few giggles from the diners. Other diners reacted differently, especially a group of four who were sitting in front of me, almost as close to the couple as I was. One of them, a heavy set man in his mid thirties, was clearly upset. He swivelled to face them looking annoyed. Personally, far from being bothered by the quarrelsome couple, I found them entertaining. I kept an ear cocked. It was peculiar that they chose this moment to bicker, but, having been married myself, I understand that marital events sometimes occur without plan or premeditation and once started can be difficult to control.
APlease, Henry, lower your voice. You=re embarrassing us both, mostly yourself.@ AMe!@ he shot back. AMe! You, my dear, are the one dressed like a Bourbon Street whore, talking whore talk. I=m ashamed; you embarrass me, you embarrass the entire city. Look at the way you=re dressed, for Christ=s sake.@ She was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward with her deep cleavage aimed right at him, ANow, honey-bunny, admit it, you love this dress and everything that=s in it. I look like you want me to look. You brag about this dress. AAThis isn=t the place for it and you know it. Look at yourself, you=re falling out of it! Jesus!@ The woman sat erect and glanced around the room. She fixed her gaze on me pouting sexily. Where the front of her dress covered each breast, it formed two sagging tear drops. Using just two fingers on either hand and while holding her little fingers out sharply, she tugged upward at the top of the tear drops. Her action might have been a move toward modesty but all it did was make her ample breasts wobble a bit then appear to pour out the sides. To Henry she said a little bit sing-songy, AWell, darling, I think I look nice. And, by the way,@ she smiled Aso do you. You look sooo handsome in your cute little tuxee-wuxee.@ AYou=re drunk!@ She was drunk. She up ended the wine bottle into her empty glass but only a drop or two emerged. As she pushed back her chair to stand up, she blew the man a slow motion kiss and said, AOrder another merlot, sugah-woogah, while I go to the little whore=s room.@ She again adjusted her bosom, and walked reasonably straight to the ladies room. ALush!@ the man called after her under his breath as he raised a hand to signal the waiter.
When she left, so did the tension. I wasn=t even aware of it, but my pulse rate was elevated. I suppose a lot of us breathed a sigh of relief, just as we all waited expectantly for her to reappear. ALush,@ he repeated when she returned. AAnd you are luscious, too, my darling, handsome fucking Henry. Cheers, puddin=. You=ll be my dessert!@ She took a large swallow of wine. When she lowered her arm her left elbow slid off the table edge. She giggled and, after two or three attempts, returned it to its resting place near her plate. AGoddam lush,@ the man saidBhe loved the word--leaning back in his chair and surveying the diners while he shrugged helplessly.
Then, all of a sudden it was like half time at a sporting event: somewhere a buzzer sounded and the contestants shuffled off the field. The couple ate with gusto and civility. Nothing much happened, no action anyhow, and I think we all forgot them and went back to our meals, maybe just throwing them a quick glance now and then to nail them to their chairs. After the drama, the meal was just food, a little on the bland side. I couldn=t help thinking that if the food wasn=t worth fifty dollars, the entertainment certainly was. While they were behaving themselves, I was getting bored.
Then. Calmly, out of the blue, the woman, with a smile: AI was going to talk to you about this later, Henry, but, really, I think this is as good a time as any. The babysitter asked me to tell you to leave-her-alone.@ The man paused in mid-chew. AWhat? Wanda? Wanda told you what?@ AWanda said to leave her alone. She said she already has a boy friend.@ The woman laughed out loud, her bodice sinking lower with each gasping laugh. AShit, Henry, you can=t handle me, what the fuck are you going to do with a sixteen year old?@ His face turned scarlet. Still laughing, she sat back and let her eyes roam the diners. She lifted an arm, still clutching her napkin, and waved it in his direction, a big smile on her face. When she lifted her glass to take a sip he grabbed her arm in a tight grip. ADon=t you ever make fun of me in public!@ Her face paled. The wine glass quivered and some spilled over the rim onto her fingers and down her forearm. She opened her hand and the glass clattered onto the table cloth, breaking the stem and splashing red wine in his direction staining his sparkling white shirt front. His entire head puffed up with rage. His cheeks suffused with blood; his nose went white. With a mouth full of un-chewed food, I searched for signs of aneurysm. For the first time she seemed genuinely frightened. She crossed both arms defensively over her ample chest. Her face registered real alarm. AYou bitch!@ he shrieked. He balled a fist and drew back. AHey now!@ It was the heavy set man from the table in front of me. Rising from his chair, he flung his napkin to the floor and rushed at them. AStop this now!@ The elegant man pushed his chair back, wrestled with his jacket trying to get it off and stood to meet him. A few diners headed for the door. The rest of us looked and waited. AGoddamit! What are you people doing? Go home!@ he demanded. Silence, everyone was stunned silent. The woman placed a palm on his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. APlease excuse us, sir, we=re just awful I know. I apologize for both of us. You are such a gentleman. I can=t believe how awful we=ve been. And how selfish. We=re not usually so inconsiderate. Well, I=m not. Henry=s under a lot of pressure what with his failing business and with Wanda and his expanding alcohol problem, not to mention what I promised I wouldn=t mention@ she cupped her hand around her mouth, pretending secrecy Ahis growing dependency on designer drugs...@ At this last word she sat up in her chair very suddenly causing her bosom to give a pert bounce, eyes boring hotly into Henry. Her companion glowered but said nothing. With a sighed AGoddam!@ the heavy set man returned to his table; immediately the entire room began talking and gesturing at once. Like ordering a dog to heel, the woman matter-of-factly commanded, AHenry, let=s go.@ She rose and walked out without looking back. The man pushed his food away with a forearm, hurriedly threw a few bills down and ran to catch the woman who had already exited.
There was a second or two of complete silence. Then all hell broke out among the diners, including lots of laughs and some applause. The wait staff appeared with styrofoam containers. Like a signal some of the lights were dimmed, others extinguished. The noise of people scraping plate contents into styrofoam boxes with sharp clicks; the high-volume chatter was less like the end of a meal than the end of an opera. People got their things together, rose to the scuffing and sliding of chairs and made their way to the front door. I joined them.
Outside, although the rain had stopped the street was awash in mirrored lights. The sounds of low-volume conversation trailed off in all directions as the diners went their separate ways. It was then I realized how relieved I felt being away from that place and outside once again where the air was fresh and familiar. Water dripped from the trees; the uneven pavement hid small puddles; the buzz of tree crickets accompanied me on the slow walk home. I was already two blocks down the street when I realized I left my umbrella at the restaurant. I stopped in my tracks regretting not only the two block walk back, but the very idea of entering that building so soon again. In my mind, it was already closed, boarded up and marked AFor Sale.@ The umbrella was nothing special, although it was new and hardly used. Reluctantly, I conceded that I wanted it back.
As I approached the building looked closed; it was dark inside. Getting closer I noticed a light on in the back toward the kitchen. I knocked on the door. Through the door=s curtain I saw a movement by the light so I knocked again, harder. The movement turned into a shadow, then a man. I made a silly waving motion with my hand. He shouted through the door, AWe=re closed.@ AI know,@ I shouted back, AI was there for dinner. I forgot my umbrella.@ AOh, OK, c=mon in.@ He unlocked the door. AI think somebody put it in the kitchen. Be right back.@ Sounds of laughter and loud talking came from the kitchen; the sounds increased as the man pushed through the swinging door. I followed him. Spying through the port hole windows I saw six people sitting around a large table. They were drinking beer and wine, looking happy and talking loud. One of them was the threatening heavy set man. Across from him, tilting back in his chair, still in a tux but coat open, tie un-done, with wine stained shirt front pulled up, was Henry. Walking around smoking a cigarette was the lady still looking elegant but changed into jeans and a Tulane sweat shirt. The whole lot of them were in that kitchen, paling around, laughing loudly like frat boys. The man, who I now recognized as the chef and owner, returned with my umbrella. He handed it to me with an ironic smile. AI may hire Henry and Company full time. What do you think?@ I didn=t know what to think. Was it a kind of dinner theater? As an act they were kind of scary even ridiculous, but effective. I couldn=t remember the meal I had just forty minutes ago. ASo,@ I asked, Ayou=re keeping the restaurant open.@ AYou bet your sweet ass!@