“I did. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I couldn’t finish the last one, so it was three-and-a-half.”
“Honest, too,” I nod as he stares at me, pride lighting his eyes a moment before he pushes his glasses up and returns to his menu.
With the ice teas and lemonades we ordered our server returns, tray deftly balanced as he circles the long table and correctly places each drink in front of the right person. As soon as he’s done, he pulls out his notepad, using the tray as a desk. “Are you ready, or would you like more time to decide?”
Will asks, “Do you have a huge hot dog?”
“I’m afraid not.”
This sends the women into hysterics. He looks at them, and Zia pulls out her phone. “It’s not you! I just showed my cousins something on YouTube.”
“Ah,” he frowns, relieved.
But Elliot says, “No, you didn’t.”
“Not just now,” Zia lies, “Before!” flicking a glance to me since I called him honest and here she is not. “When we were walking over.”
“I’ll give you another minute.”
I call to our server’s back, “No, we’re ready now.” He crosses to me, taking notes as I motion to each person with my chin, “Tempest would like the kale caeser with salmon instead of chicken, no croutons.” Her jaw drops. “Joshua wants the cheeseburger, medium rare. Chedder cheese. Sharp, if you have it. If not, medium will do.” Josh sets down his menu. “Christina will have,” Bennett starts to cut me off but I speak over him, “…the lobster arancini with a side of charred broccolini. Bennett there, the ginger who is glaring at me for ordering his girlfriend’s meal, he would like the NY strip steak, medium rare to the rare side. Add onion rings she’ll have to sneak some of to avoid his breath.”
“Nax!” he barks.
I ignore him, continuing, “Our boys will have one fish and chips, one margherita pizza and one well done cheese burger — plain — to split between them. And last of my friends, but certainly not least, Zia here has been eyeing the hot soppressata pizza but thinking she should have a salad instead. So I’m just going to say pizza it is, since life is short.” Tapping the menu, I say, “Excuse me, you call them flat breads, my apologies. She’ll have the hot soppressata flatbread with an added side of brussel sprouts. And I? I will have oysters until I beg you to stop.” Handing him my menu I smile, “Thank you.”
Everyone is staring at me, except our server who takes notes until his head pops up. “Anything else?”
“Some french fries.”
“Sounds good.” He spins around and disappears.
Bennett throws his napkin at my head, “What the Tuck was that?”
I catch it, “You’re so adorable with that game,” and spread it over my lap, “Two napkins! What? Was I wrong?”
They search each other, each answering with a head-shake that admits I nailed it.
Except for Zia who purses her lips. “I’m allergic to garlic,” the top ingredient listed on her flatbread — roasted garlic, fresh mozzarella, balsamic glaze.
“Dangit!” I shout.
She reaches across the table, laying long red fingernails on sun-dappled iron. “Kidding.”
I straighten up. “Really?”
“Really.”
Both arms fly up. “I am awesome!”
Joe laughs, “Dad!”
Bennett grumbles, “You’re annoying is what you are.”
“You love me.”
He flatly admits, “I do,” making Elliot’s head nearly fall off he swings it so fast. Bennett drinks from his ice tea and mutters, “Men can say they love each other, Elliot.”
“But you rarely say it. To anyone.”
“I’ve gotten better at that, haven’t I?”
His new girlfriend touches his arm and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable with all of this attention on his softening edges.
“Dad, can we go look at the water?” Joe asks.
“Sure.”
Three cloth napkins get tossed onto the table. Bennett snatches one as they take off running in a race nobody had to announce.
Josh shouts, “Stay within eyesight!”
Will calls back, “Okay Dad!”
Josh has been more closed off today than any since I arrived in New York. I’m aware — as I know he is, too — that Christina brought her sister hoping they might hit it off, but it’s not going to happen. Every time Tempest stands out, he looks irritated. When his son cheered for her hole-in-one earlier, Josh walked away from our group, heading for the next hole on his own. She felt his cold shoulder. We all saw it, but acted like we didn’t so she wouldn’t feel worse.
So when she asks him, “Josh, what is the charity you started?” and he shrugs and won’t look at her, I’m not surprised, nor am I proud.
Bennett and I exchange a glance. He wants to tell Josh he’s being a dick, but I shake my head, so he chooses a wiser route, “Christina would like to help the senior community obtain improved housing conditions, for those who are alone and don’t have the money. I told her you might be able to help.”
Josh straightens up. “What are you hoping to do?”
Glancing quickly to her sister, Christina begins, “Um…well, I had a friend who was quite old and lived in one apartment his entire adult life. It was in terrible shape. Water damage on the ceiling. Leaky faucets. Ratty carpeting that had probably been there since the fifties with holes in it from mice. He lived in a hovel! And when he,” she pauses, not wanting to trigger Josh, voice becoming gentler, “…died…I didn’t know it, so I went to visit him, and the place was gorgeous. Completely renovated for the new tenant who never knew he existed!”
“The landlord could finally raise the rent, that’s why.”
“Yes, and it’s wrong.”
“It’s very wrong.”
“What can I do?”
He stares at the problem. “It’s hard to get money from the city. But you may be able to gain benefactors who are interested in your cause. A lot of people are close to their grandparents —”
“—We are,” she interjects, waving
