Supper's Ready

An end of year post with a creepy little very short story. 

Supper's Ready

"Supper's ready.", the quiet little man whispered to the room of enthralled diners.

"Ohh, lovely!", said an older woman with a dewlapped neck.  "I've heard SO much about this place and their dishes."

"Tonight, you're in for a treat.  Johnson Ribs Au Jus with asparagus in a delicate bechamel sauce and an invigorating peppermint potato."

"Peppermint potato?" a fat man said with some concern. "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"The potatoes are mashed and the mint is very light. It adds refreshing highlights to the au jus from the ribs.  Trust me, Sir, you will be very happy."

"I should hope so!" the man blustered, "Now, what is this Johnson rib nonsense?"

"Well, Sir, it is the name of the originator of the dish."

"Ah, all right, then.", the blustery man seemed content.

"Very good, Sir.  Are there any more questions?"  The quiet little man looked around the table, making contact with each of the six diners at the table. "No?  Then, let the feasting begin."

The first course out of the kitchen was a delicately seasoned salad with strips of what appeared to be bacon placed along the sides.  

A large woman at the end of the table moaned as she ate the dish.  

"Oh, this is marvelous." she exclaimed.  "I love the pralines and bacon together.  Such a wonderful pairing of salty and sweet."

The quiet little man bowed.  "I am glad you have enjoyed it, and now, the soup. A bone broth with faux duck confit."

"Faux duck?  I did not pay $1500 a plate for faux anything!" exclaimed the blustery man.

"Faux, in this case, Sir, merely means that it is not duck.  The actual meat is a trade secret. It has a similar taste profile to duck but is far richer.  Try it, I implore you."

The man tentatively spooned out some of the confit and placed it in his mouth.  His eyes rolled back in his head in ecstasy. 

"No Sir, nothing faux here."

The diners continued their meal in silence, only pausing to take sips of wine and pat their mouths with their napkins.

"A palate cleanser before we continue?", the quiet little man signalled to the waiters who brought out small bowls of melon sorbet.  The diners quickly downed the dish and waited expectantly.

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present our main course.  Johnson Ribs Au Jus."

The wait staff brought out the plates and put them before the diners.  Each contained a small rack of long, thin ribs, a half dozen asparagus sprouts with a cream sauce across the middle and mashed potatoes with a sprig of mint in the center.  For some minutes there was nothing but the clack and ting of cutlery on plates, the sipping of wine and a low buzz of conversation could be heard around the room.

The blustery man spoke up, "I say, I should like to meet this Johnson fellow.  His ribs are spectacular!"

The little man smiled deprecatingly "Quite impossible, I'm afraid.  Mr. Johnson had another dinner appointment.  If you would like to come back after the meal, Sir, I can show you where the meal was prepared."

"Yes, that will be very good, Sir.  Thank you."

The little man nodded his head. "And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would retire to the Parlor, we will be serving coffee, port and cigars.  We thank you for your patronage."  He walked to the Blustery Man.

"Mister?"

"Darion Fitzwilliam."

"Ah, very good.  Mr. Fitzwilliam, please come this way."

The little man lead Fitzwilliam through the door to the kitchen.  He opened it and allowed the blustery man to go ahead of him, as he entered the room, he reached up to the left for a large bat.  He continued his arm down and struck Fitzwilliam across the back of his neck.  Fitzwilliam dropped to the floor like a sack.  The little man gestured to the prep staff.  "Take him back to the preparation room.  In two weeks, we will be serving Roast Haunch Fitzwilliam."

Very Well Met

The trip into The City was brutal.  I missed the train to Penn Station by, quite literally, 10 seconds.  Phone call to her brought her answering machine, "Damn."

Train comes, and I get on it, nervous but not nervous enough to not read.  My vice, you see.  It won't kill you like heroin or make your clothes stink like tobacco but if you are a reader you have to have a book with you, just in case you have some down time.  I'm reading something by Heinlein, "Starship Troopers", story about what man owes to Society as much as a good sci-fi military yarn.  I settle back and let the train take me.

I'm nervous about going into New York. I'm from everywhere that doesn't have big cities.  I've been around them but have never been that comfortable.  Even though I've lived in New Jersey, at this point, twenty years, going into The City (it's always capitalized in my head like that, by the way) is an adventure and somewhat worrying.

Train pulls into Penn station and I look at the printed directions I had gotten from her.  Okay, take the A Train to 181st Street.  Got it.  I find the A train and, again, miss it by seconds.  Figuring it's New York, I don't bother to call, there will be another train along shortly.  30 minutes later, the A Train comes in. I get on and find a seat. I don't read because I don't have any idea how far along 181st Street is.

"*Squawk*...train runs only to 168th Street due to construction.  For points north of *squawk*, you will have to take the provided shuttle buses."

Shuttle buses?  Well, this won't be too bad.  I'll take the shuttle to 181st and walk from there, no problem.  I look at my  phone and see that it's currently 8:15.  I was supposed to meet her at 8 at the restaurant.  At 168th Street, I make another call, get her answering machine and tell it what happened.

"So, I'm on my way.  Should be there soon, I hope."

I hang up and get on the shuttle. Sitting near the front so that, hopefully, I will see 181st Street.  We get there.  You know, there are some very dark alleys in New York.  This is one of the darkest alleys I've ever seen.  Anywhere.  This is supposed to be Manhattan but...I'm not sure.  So, I get out of the bus and start walking in a direction.  One of my philosophies is:  Do something, even if it's wrong.  Meaning you can always make a course correction later.

So, I'm wandering around this alley when I see someone and ask them where "Fort Washington Avenue" is.  He looks at me like I'm insane.  That's because no one in New York asks questions like this.  Quite literally no one.  Just not done.  So, I'm obviously from out of town.  He answers me by pointing up the longest and steepest set of stairs I have ever seen.  They seem to go straight up in almost a ladder like formation.  I look at my phone again.  8:40.  I hope she's still there and begin to run up the stairs.

I have to stop half way up, of course.  I'm 46 and not used to running.  I stop, catch my breath and look at my phone.  8:42.  Come on, you can do it!  I 'sprint' up the stairs and look panting at the note of where to go.  Kismet.  I see it across the street from The World's Longest Staircase And Torture Center and cross the street.

Coming in the door, I see the waiter and ask if she's there.  He looks surprised and points at a very angry looking woman in the corner, finishing her dinner.  I stumble over and say "I'm Andrew."  I hit her with a winning smile and start to explain what happened. As I recount the journey, her anger dissipates. She starts to laugh.  I order my dinner and eat and we chat and joke.  I flick some water in her face which makes her do it back.  We're both grinning as we settle the checks and head out of Kismet.

She explains to me that she didn't know about the construction on the A Train and that she would have given me different instructions.  I don't worry about it, I made it there.  We walk up Fort Washington Avenue, toward the George Washington Bridge and stop at Starbucks.  I order a coffee, she orders a hot chocolate.  We continue to talk and laugh until they closed up Starbucks around us.  We went outside unsure what to do next.  So, I leaned in and kissed her and...

The world stopped.  The kiss was one of those rare first kisses that seems to go on forever.  I pulled her tighter to me and continued to kiss her.  Then, we broke the kiss, looked at each other and have been together ever since.

That happened six years ago today.  Happy Anniversary, My Marcy.  I love you.