The Biggest Feast

When I first met Eleni, we were at a dinner party in Chicago, inside a regal-looking gala space, celebrating the opening of the new play. I was a mere background actor. I didn't even have a name credited to me. In fact, I played several characters. I was a town person, the woman in the village, and a dancer. She was a guest of the director. How she was acquainted with Ivan, I can only imagine. That was never revealed to me. But we met and bonded over the food. Neither one of us an introvert; conversation came easily, without walls.

They were serving Stroganina on the buffet table. The pieces of whitefish were curled, a natural occurrence as part of their preparation. This was a Russian version of sashimi. We both loved sushi, sashimi, and any form of seafood prepared any which way. Thus, Stroganina was the first dish I prepared for our special feast.

I can't explain our friendship. We just both wanted each other in each other's lives. It was the most organic relationship I've ever had in adulthood. She was in a transitional period in her life. Having acquired a small fortune from a recent divorce, Eleni was learning about society. I always felt a sense of disbelonging with every group, most of all the very wealthy, but Eleni acted as if she belonged. This made me feel like I could fit in too, not just "faking it until I make it." She was also very generous to me.

After all, we were very similar. Although from opposite sides of the world, both of our families came from islands. We were both tall for women, had long dark hair, and loved dancing. When the music broke out, we were on the dance floor. When we got hungry, we'd get fried calamari at the bar.

Fried calamari. That was something I haven't eaten in a while. In recent years, I've quite rightly admired the intelligence and beauty of the octopus and their cousins, the squid. However, it was a special occasion, marked by an insufferable layer of nostalgia. So I fried calamari with a dash of cayenne pepper, a Malaysian recipe, coated with flour, salt, and pepper—the second appetizer.

I'd known Eleni for almost a year when she met Roger. He was an all-American type of guy. A professional firefighter by trade, which was a huge turn-on for Eleni, Roger completely swept her off her feet. I noticed lots of changes in her that year. Our decadent all-day lunches that turned into dinner with friends and lots and lots of booze were gone. Now, Eleni was suddenly a health food fanatic. She became an expert on all things, such as the keto diet.

I chose a salmon salad for our dinner salad. Eleni would have approved. Cucumber, feta cheese, tomatoes, and greens tossed together with olive oil. The skin-on salmon fillet, lightly cooked placed on top. I sprinkled some chia seeds on top for good measure.

I took a deep breath. There would be no dessert. Eleni gave up dessert years ago. On to the main course.

Five years went by in the blink of an eye. Roger and Eleni were off and off again, and then finally off. It was an affair that Roger had with one of Eleni's debutante friends. Someone I was barely acquainted with, but it didn't matter who it was with, Roger had been unfaithful. That was the end of that relationship.

Eleni was not alright afterward. She became quite a different person. Everything was serious, everything was tearful. Nothing was fun ever again.

A year after the big breakup, I came to Eleni for some insight. I was writing a play of my own, something for a young ingenue like my former self would star in. Instead of reading the draft herself, Eleni shared it with a very discerning playwright, a star in his own right within our small, distinguished circle. That man tore my manuscript apart. In his highly overrated opinion, my characters were unbelievably brainless, unrelatable, and the whole plot was "unengaging." It upset me so much, it took me years to pick up a pen and paper again.

Our friendship suffered a lot after that ordeal. We both had words with each other. She had gripes about me that I'd never heard her say before. I finally let things out, I'd held back for years. Things about her personality, old grievances that I never hashed out before. Every time we talked, things got uglier and uglier between us.

For the main course, I was using an earth oven. I was using Eleni's earth oven, as I didn't own one myself. I wanted to capture the aroma of meat being cooked underground, but we live in the USA, so an earth oven would have to do.

I found this recipe on the internet. Huatia Chile con Carne. It used fresh-ground pepper, 2 jalapenos, fresh garlic, onion, vegetable oil, cumin, oregano, brown sugar, and my favorite ingredient, cerveza. I prepared this as instructed. The meat fell apart after five hours. If Eleni was anything at all, she was most definitely not a vegan.

Eleni had a formal service. But it was here at her celebration of life inside her spacious loft that I was asked to speak before we ate. I scoffed, thinking ironically, how she didn't believe in me as a writer, so much so that she brought in an outsider just to cut me down to size. Yet, here I was, about to recite a eulogy written by me.

"Eleni was," I began after a long breath. I looked out at the space before me, faces of all of Eleni's ghosts.

The apartment would be sold at auction. She'd stopped payments way before her death. She had very little money in the end. Looking out at everyone, all the people she'd bought drinks for, paid meals for, bought wedding gifts, baby gifts, and more, another dry thought occurred. If all of us, contributed half of what she'd given us, where would she have ended up instead? These weren't even all the people she'd given handouts to.

"Bigger than life," I continued, forcing my lips into a smile. God, I was smiling at these people.

The room murmured in agreement. I waited til it was quiet again, then continued.

"It's been over ten years since I last spoke to Eleni," I confessed. My voice broke slightly at the end of the sentence. I mustered on.

"But I know that she still loved me as she did all of you...Eleni was many things in her life. I hope that if she were here, she'd enjoy this feast..."

I heard some feet shuffling. People poured themselves more aperitifs.

"This is the biggest feast I've ever prepared," I said, the emotions hitting me.

"There is no dessert...Eleni gave up sugar a long time ago."

The room laughed in understanding.

"But if you need something sweet, there are plenty of martinis at the bar in her honor," I said.

"Here, here!" Someone yells out.

I finish my eulogy, the beautiful words I'd carefully constructed rushing out of me. Everyone clapped. I nodded in acknowledgement at some of her friends that I knew. Then I ran to the bathroom. As soon as I locked the door, the sobs came.

"Hey," Eleni said. We were in the bathroom of a club downtown. It was a hole in the wall, but the beats were sick.

"What?" I wiped my tears away. My supposed "beau" had stood me up. I had wanted them to meet. Eleni was the one with all the men waiting on her. I wanted her to finally check out the guy I was dating.

"He's stupid," she said as she wrapped an arm around me. She turned me towards the mirror. Makeup was streaking down my cheeks.

"Look at you," she said, pointedly. "You are gorgeous. I think you and I...we have something special. Only a man who recognizes that is worth our time."

I smile back at my friend. She knew exactly how to make me feel better. I was glad I wasn't alone.

Inside Eleni's bathroom. I look in the mirror. In the end, we were not good friends. She would not have wanted me to be with her, but she was someone I once loved, and even with the bad stuff, I still did. So, I pulled myself together. I washed my face, dried it off, and took a deep breath.

I opened the door. It was time to eat.