Louie’s in October

Louie’s in October

The pungent smell of garlic wafted through the air at Louie’s Restaurant as I opened the door. Paul wore this scent home after work as their chef for sixteen years; and it enveloped me with a warm feeling. Sitting near the back of the restaurant had become my nightly ritual since he died last year. It was the perfect table as I could watch everyone as they dined, and my loneliness abated until closing time.

Ethan, my waiter, brought my wine in a tall tea glass, and I immediately wrapped a linen napkin around it, camouflaging the contents. This made me feel less like an alcoholic. “Does Louie know I’m here?” I asked.

“I’ll let him know.” He took one step away and then turned back to me. “His wife had to leave early to get to New York. Her mother is in the hospital again.”

I nodded slightly, knowing this was going to be a better night than expected. Our affair of fifteen years was easier on me since Paul died, but we still had to hide it from Martha.

I noticed a few new faces, but mostly, it’s the usual Thursday night crowd. Two well-dressed strangers seated at the next table were clearly in an argument. It was difficult to understand everything they said, so I leaned forward. I didn’t have to wait long before I could sit back and enjoy the show as they began to “chat” a little louder.

I noticed that although his face was angry, his handsome features were still evident, and his eyes were the color of the turbulent ocean. “Maybe I shouldn’t drink a lot of wine tonight,” I mumbled, though I lifted my glass and motioned for Ethan to leave the bottle. He quietly laid my plate of Shrimp Alfredo with two pieces of garlic bread in front of me. I took a bite of the bread and another sip of wine, continuing my enraptured stare of the couple.

“It’s our anniversary, John. Please let it go.” The woman appeared to maintain her composure; however, her hand trembled as she lifted her wine glass. Her voice was softly Southern and dripped of Old Money. Having an argument in public must have been way out of her comfort zone.

His nostrils flared as the conversation grew louder and more intense. “I...will...NEVER...let it go, Doris. I shouldn’t have married you. My mother was right. You’re just lucky I never told her how right she was.”

I could tell Doris was trying to keep the argument to a whisper between them, but we could all see dear John was at the boiling point. This argument must have raged for years, and maybe I was going to see the culmination of all that anger…right here…in the restaurant…tonight. I admonished myself, only momentarily, as it seemed I was actually enjoying this vulgar display of desperation between two strangers.

“It was thirty years ago, and Simon and I both apologized over and over to you. Why are you bringing this up now?” Her palms opened up and lifted from her sides, pleading with him. “It was a long time ago, John. We’ve lived our whole lives together now. Vacations. Graduations. Our children’s marriages. Our grandchildren. Everything we’ve worked so hard for, and it’s here now for us to finish enjoying as we’ve grown older.”

She was begging with him at this point to let something go, and I really wanted to know what that “something” was. I thought to myself, “Don’t disappoint me now. Bring it on home. Let’s get this out in the open so we can all hear it.” I ate some shrimp, took another sip of wine, and was starting to feel highly relaxed.

John erupted with rage. “Simon’s my brother and I caught you screwing him at our wedding.”

“Oh damn!” My eyes grew wide and I took a big gulp of wine. I thought to myself, “Doris! I never suspected you of this. You seemed so regal. So serene and respectable. Well, I guess you just never know how some people really are.” I drank the last of the wine in the bottle. My righteous indignation was at its apex and I felt a little better about myself.

He continued to rage. “We had just taken our vows as husband and wife.” He stopped and shook his head in disgust. “Before God and our family and friends!” His face…his sexy face...now looked cold and detached. “You’re nothing but a common whore!”

Doris flinched as he slammed his fist on the table. He raked his hand through his hair and his jawline became more pronounced. I noticed the softness from her beautiful face had now disappeared and her eyes narrowed. The two volleyed glares at one another.

At this point, the whole restaurant was privy to their intimate conversation. We glanced nervously at each other and waited for the next move. I know this sounds impossible, but I would swear someone threw a spotlight on their table. I felt like an extra sitting on a movie set or television show and my eyes darted back and forth between them like watching a tennis match. I think Doris has the next serve.

She finished her wine and stood with determined elegance. Her blue dress was magnificent, accented with a long strand of pearls. They certainly appeared to be a show-worthy couple.

“Lord, have mercy,” I mumbled. “Looks can be so deceiving.” In my delightfully intoxicated state of mind, it was easy to dole out what some might call judgements. I prefer the terms “assessment and perception.” Never mind that I’ve been sleeping with Louie for fifteen years. Never mind that Paul told me on his deathbed he knew all about it.

Doris had plastered on an unnervingly, sweet smile accented with lovely rose lipstick. I thought perhaps she would say she’d wait for him in the car, but instead she ended the dinner, the night, and most likely their controlled marriage with the wicked words, “Simon’s the father of our three children.”