An Odd Man Out (part four)

 

 

 

The Resident

Chapter Four

An Odd Man Out

 

[rerunning the last several entries to help readers catch up, because I haven’t added to this story for months]

 

 

 

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The house was cold and smelled wonderful. But Claudie took the living room sofa, smiling, blank as to turkey and pie, bakery croissants, corn souffle. Thin portions, if Dad arrived—

And the knock at the door, to the tune of “Goobers and Raisinets” from the movies, and the heavy panting of a Great Dane heard through the sidelight, said he had.

“Let yourself in!” John’s mother yelled, passing. “Let me see if I can get everything on the table…”

With a stare at the couple on the sofa.

A year later, they were married at Oathbreach Farm.

 

 

At Christmas. The promise had woven itself in, and once their friendship arrived to Claudie’s sharing his apartment, she talked about Christmas as a given, cookies she might bake, if Gina could maybe teach her; the sort of dress, a wintry dress, not white but something fun…

“Would you wear a tuxedo?” she asked.

John’s picture of himself attempting it, took the space of a rational reply.

“Wear a sweater. I like your sweaters.”

Bitterness, did he see any? Would he know the subtleties, to save himself? He tried: “We can both wear sweaters.”

“I like that best! But I want a skirt with a train.” She danced, and mocked gauziness flowing through her hands. “Well, a veil, too… Or a hat.”

He had seen the magazines she’d bought, brides wearing Stetsons, cocked top-hats. “Dallas Does It Bigger”; “An Equestrian Extravaganza in the Hamptons.”

“An extravaganza skirt,” he said, without helping himself.

“Ooh! I don’t know what that is.”

The phone rang.

His mother said, “John, I appreciate Claudie. She’s lovely. But I think she is not familiar… I guess, with responsibilities. You are going to need a reservation, probably a few months ago. You had better call Oathbreach pronto.”

Oh. He wished his mother had. Of all gifts, her thinking of things and getting them done, for a son who didn’t and couldn’t, would have been…most appreciated. He called the next day, when they had hours, and the woman told him, “I’m so sorry. We absolutely can’t.”

“But you have a buffet, a holiday buffet?”

“The twenty-fourth, from eleven to three.”

“Is it reservations?”

“Yee-es. But… Let me look in my book.” Pages ruffled. Sucking on a pen came over the line, and John fought dropping the receiver. “How many?”

“How many?”

“In your party.”

“Two.” No, that doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t Mom and Dad be there? “Um…”

“Two is no problem. You can pick a time.”

“What if four?”

“Have you been here?”

 

 

40

 

 

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Tithonians

An Odd Man Out (part one)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2022, Stephanie Foster)