The Odd Dinner That Was Great
The Odd Dinner That Was Great
And some trips down memory lane
Ellie’s Story #32 in the series
I was nervous about having dinner for five on Sunday night. I told Alfred that Coach had wanted to know more about their play and could he join us for dinner.
“Coach, for dinner?”
“Yep, that’s what I asked.”
“He really wants to come for dinner? Sure. I’m going to invite Hannah, too, if that is all right.”
“No problem, but Grandma is coming to.”
“Mom, what are you going to make? I haven’t seen you cook a dinner for so many.”
I assured Alfred that I would figure it out, which I did. I opted for safe, which meant no meat in case someone was a vegetarian, which Alfred was close to being. I made salmon, pasta, salad, and a raspberry tart. Our home always has Soho Globs.
But how would the conversation go? Tom told me not to worry.
“We have some excellent conversationalists in the room. All will be fine.”
He was right.
Hannah arrived an hour early, saying she hated being late and thought she could help. Alfred told her that help wasn’t necessary, but they could play a game of chess instead.
I liked that resolution — out of my hair and fully occupied.
Then Tom arrived thirty minutes early, saying he wanted to be of help.
Tom couldn’t be of help because I didn’t need help, and more than anything, he was a major distraction. I just wanted to go up to him and give him a big, big kiss while laying hands on him, which I couldn’t do. Instead, I gave him my sexiest look with my eyes, which was not wasted.
“Ellie, I saw that, and I am going to collect on that sometime soon.”
With the kids in the family room, I approached him and stole a small kiss, which completely took him by surprise.
“Tom, I bet you didn’t know that sometimes I take big risks. Consider yourself warned.”
My mom wandered in next. I formally introduced them, though they didn’t need it.
“What do I call you?” my mom asked.
“Either Tom or Coach works.”
“Since Alfred calls you ‘Coach,’ I’ll do that. And since Alfred calls me ‘Grandma,’ you can use that.”
When I called the kids in, Alfred and Hannah were very excited to see Coach. It was as if they had a celebrity in the room. Hannah greeted Coach first.
“Coach, I am still recording in my journal, and I am still following your advice to not let the clock be my master.”
Alfred just gave Coach a high-five and said it was fun to have him over. Then Alfred added,
“I don’t remember if you play chess. If you do, we can play later.”
“I don’t really do chess, Alfred, but I do play a pretty mean jazz piano if there’s a piano around.”
There was a piano in the basement from which I played in my early years, but it hadn’t been touched in quite some time and was likely out of tune.
As the food made its way out, the conversation started immediately, Tom first.
“So, Alfred and Hannah, I am very curious about this play you’ve been working on. When will it be performed?”
Hannah wanted to dampen Coach’s excitement. “We hope right before Spring break. There is still so much to do that we haven’t made the date definite. And Coach, we’d like you to come, but you might be disappointed. We are high schoolers, so not Broadway caliber yet.”
Alfred interjected.
“Well, maybe not Broadway caliber, but it’s going to be good.”
“And because I know almost nothing about it except for the title, can you tell me what you are exploring?”
Alfred jumped right in. “Coach, great question. We want people to look at how they started in life and then what happened to take them to where they are. How did they go from a seed to a shiny red apple?”
Coach smiled. “So, it’s about looking inward and understanding some of the key moments in one’s life that made an impact and furthered their development?”
Hannah, who had been waiting her turn, practically shouted,
“Exactly! By asking questions, you might learn about yourself in ways you didn’t expect. It’s an opportunity to grow.”
Alfred added, “In my case, Coach, I have been thinking about our time together and the rules you gave me. I think I’ll add chess club, Popposites, Joey and Nellie, and now my new grandparents to my story. Those would all be a good start.”
I was noticing that amidst all this conversation, no one was eating. “Anybody hungry? The food tastes better when it’s hot.”
It was clear that no one wanted to leave a very interesting conversation.
Alfred said he’d start eating, “But I need to ask Coach this question first. Coach, your mom was so important to you. I know that from our time together. Was there one story that stands out where you can say, ‘Boy, did I learn something then!’ That’s what we want to happen at the play.”
Tom looked visibly moved. His mom had been gone a year, and he was close to her. He asked Alfred if he could come back to that question later. He wanted to give it some thought and find a really great moment in his memory bank.
Grandma decided it was her turn to speak.
“Alfred, I have an answer to that question. When I was a young girl, my mother and I had gone to the market, and somehow, on the way home, she lost a quarter. A quarter today is no big deal, but back then, during the Depression, we were poor, and it felt huge. I told my mom not to worry. I would go look for the quarter and find it. I disappeared for quite some time, but what I really did was go into my dresser, where I had two quarters and two dimes, given to me by my grandma. Eventually, I found my mom and said, ‘Look what I found! It was on the sidewalk.’ She was thrilled, and I learned two things. I learned how good it feels when you can help someone who is really sad. And I learned that not all lies are bad. My mom didn’t need to know it was really my quarter.”
I had never heard that story before, and it was clearly an important memory of my mom’s. She learned a few things that served her well. We were silent for a bit, and then we were back in rich conversation. We talked about school, Baltimore, dogs, chess club, and then finally, Tom said he had his story to share.
“I’ve got many stories, but the one that stands out right now is when I competed at our high school district championship, and I lost. I was a cross-country, long-distance runner. I trained so hard, and everyone thought I stood a chance at medaling. But I came in fourth, and I was crushed. My mom found me, and I was very emotional at the time. She put her arm around me and asked, ‘Did you give it your all?’ I told her I did. ‘Did you have anything left in you at the end?’ ‘No,’ I said.”
As Tom told us this story, he looked visibly moved. As Tom recalled, his mother gave a very wise response that he has played back many times since.
“Then all you can do is be proud. You gave it your all, and you did well. You just didn’t medal. Many people would be happy to finish fourth and have your time. You’re just too used to winning. Maybe we can redefine what ‘winning’ means. What if it’s about giving it your all and finishing with pride, even if you’re disappointed? Does that work?”
“She even offered to buy me a medal if I could stop grieving about the race.” We all laughed at that.
“What my mom did after my race tells you a lot about her. She was smart, extremely decent in how she treated people, and most importantly for me, a very invested parent.”
The dinner flew by. Alfred asked if Coach would come again for dinner. Hannah wanted to make sure he came to the play. My mom didn’t have as much time to interact with Tom as I would have liked because the kids monopolized him.
But Tom, being Tom — exceptionally gifted when it comes to understanding and reading people — found my mom near the end.
“Grandma, I didn’t get to talk to you anywhere near enough. I suspect we see the world much the same, but we won’t know that until we get to know each other better. Can we make that happen?”
To see my mom’s smile said it all. She was honored and also speechless — a rare experience for her. Finally, I heard,
“Yes, Tom, I would like that. I would really like that. And notice, by the way, I called you ‘Tom.’”
Tom smiled because, of course, he noticed.
Everyone left at around ten. My mom drove Hannah home. Alfred was happy and exhausted. It was a lot of conversation for someone who meters out his energy, but I could tell he loved the evening. Tom headed out but gave me a small wink as he did.
That wasn’t good enough for me, so I followed him out to the car and gave him the kiss I had kept inside all night. We were going to have to find some time away — just the two of us — to be together for more than an hour here or there. His roving hands told me he felt the same.
“Ellie, you gotta go. Alfred is inside. Let’s figure out how we can steal a night together. You did give me that sexy glance earlier, so I know you feel the same.”
With that, Tom headed out, and I finished cleaning up and headed to bed. I checked my phone before drifting to sleep, whereupon I saw this.
Dear Ellie,
I can’t tell you what this evening meant to me. The kids were so interesting and engaging. Your mom is clearly a keeper that I need to know much better.
And you? You have no choice but to love me and make room for me in your family. I know it won’t always be easy, but I’ll make it worth it.
I’ll say the obvious. I love you.
Less obvious. When do I get to see you next?
Love,
Your sofa waiting for its home.