As I continued to watch him fantasize, I telepathically sent him a message that the odds of this happening were sharply not in his favor.
Shrugging his shoulders, Adam said, “Let’s eat. I mean, what’s up with dinner? Did we make a plan?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, given his self-indulgent bullshit daydream. I knew this man.
“We have a table at Ronnie’s at six thirty,” I said.
Ronnie’s was a popular seafood restaurant on Shem Creek in Mount Pleasant, just two tiny bridges and a stretch of causeway away. People from all over the country loved to gather there with locals to see the shrimp boats come in with their catch of the day and to watch the dolphins play in the water while the seagulls and pelicans performed their swooping dances and struts for free. It was a different show every night and one that never bored even the most jaded visitor.
“Great!” Carl said.
Adam said, “Are Cookie, Ted, and Clarabeth joining us? And what about the boys?”
“The boys, no. They’re going to see a movie. But the elders, yes,” I said. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to be on time.”
“Time to shake a leg,” Carl said.
Soon all seven of us waited outside the restaurant as the throng of diners ahead of us slowly moved inside. I noticed that Clarabeth was having a little trouble with the steps, but I didn’t say anything.
“This place is packed!” Carl said.
“How long am I expected to wait? Don’t we have a reservation?” Cookie said.
“We’re actually a few minutes early,” Eve said and shot me a glance as if to say, Here we go. Get ready to listen to some serious carping and complaining.
I smiled and gave Adam a nudge. “Honey? Why don’t you tell the hostess that we have some special seniors with us who need to be seated quickly?”
Clarabeth mouthed thank you to me.
“You bet,” Adam said.
I watched as Adam worked his way through the people to the podium where two harried young hostesses worked in tandem, seating patrons as quickly and efficiently as possible. Adam explained the situation to one of them, who nodded and quickly counted out seven menus.
“Just follow me,” she said.
Adam turned back to me and the others and gave us the sign to come along. Soon we were all gathered around a nice table with a view of the water, ordering drinks and enjoying the complimentary crab dip and crackers.
“This dip used to have more crab in it than it does now,” Cookie said, piling a generous dollop onto a saltine cracker.
“Crabmeat is expensive,” I said, thinking that Eve was right. Cookie had become a malcontent.
“Well, the dip is free, for heaven’s sake,” Eve said.
“I’ll have a Heineken and a cold glass, if you have it,” Carl said to the waitress.
“Yes, sir,” she said and looked to Cookie. “For you, ma’am?”
“Well, I’ve been cut off at the knees, so I guess I’ll have a glass of iced tea. Unsweetened,” Cookie said with a smile that only barely concealed her dissatisfaction with her new alcohol-free life.
“Yes,” Ted said, winking at her. “Our Cookie is sweet enough.”
“Oh, you!” Cookie said and smiled.
“I’ll have iced tea as well,” Clarabeth said, smiling at Cookie.
“Misery loves company,” Cookie said.
“There’s strength in numbers,” Clarabeth said. “My mother always said that.”
Ted blew a kiss to Clarabeth for good measure. He always seemed to know how to bring Cookie around. In fact, Ted had become quite adept at improving and sustaining the dispositions of Clarabeth and Cookie, always seeming to strike the right balance so that one did not feel the other to be a threat to her status quo. They, in turn, fussed over him like two old hens.
I assumed their sex lives were something of a distant memory. So, if that hot button was out of the equation, things had to be way less complicated among them. Still, I thought it was marvelous that Ted could manage to keep both women so happy.
Over platters of fried seafood, crunchy and lemony, served with tartar and cocktail sauces, the conversation turned to age.
“So, y’all turned fifty this year? You’re babies!” Cookie said.
“I remember fifty,” Clarabeth said, adding, “vaguely.”
“Cookie, that was a couple of years ago! But boy, I can tell you, fifty gets your attention,” Carl said. “AARP is stalking me.”
“Time seems to be moving faster,” I said, “and there are still so many things I want to do.”
“Like what?” Eve said.
“Go to Greece.”
“She gets this in her head about twice a year,” Adam said, adding very dramatically, “she thinks Greece is calling her home. Come home, Eliza!”
Adam laughed. I could tell that he thought that was a ridiculous concept. He looked around the table for support, but there was none. There was a brief awkward silence.
“Maybe it is,” I said. “Maybe there’s something there I need to know or see, or I don’t know, I just feel like I really want to go back. Even just to see the house where my mother grew up again. Maybe there are still some relatives around.”
“Most likely they won’t speak a word of English,” Adam said. “You really need to let this fantasy go.”
“There’s a lot of crime in Athens,” Eve said. “I read that somewhere.”
“They don’t live in Athens,” I said. “And don’t talk to me about fantasy, mister.”
The table got quiet. I was almost out of estrogen and Eve was still lacking in situational awareness.
Carl looked at Eve. It obviously frustrated him that she seemed unable to speak with authority on anything. I could see it in his face. Eve was embarrassed and didn’t know why. Adam had dropped a bomb on the dinner and couldn’t recover quickly enough. But then Clarabeth cleared her throat.
“All right, you youngsters, listen to your old Auntie Clarabeth.” Her faded blue eyes twinkled with wisdom and kindness inside the reddened rims of her lower eyelids.
“Lay it on us,” Adam said jovially, hoping she could restore the mood to something that felt more celebratory.
“Here’s the thing. If there’s something you see on television, like a cute little sports car or a beautiful vista in Switzerland or Hawaii, and you say to yourself, Oh! I’d like that! Or, I’d like to go there! But you turn off the television and go about your day. Chances are you’re not going to Switzerland or Hawaii and you’re not buying that little red sports car. But if you keep saying you want to go to Greece and you went there as a child and your mother was born there and the feeling stays with you for years? Good grief, girl! Take yourself to Greece!”
I gasped. Then I got up from my chair, went around the table to Clarabeth’s side, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek.
“You’re right!” I exclaimed. “Not tomorrow, but soon. I’m going to visit Corfu and my family there.”