car ma dame, qui m'a mort,
Friday, October 13, 2006
Friday morning, Collette turned on the heater for virtually the first time that autumn. It produced the same Christmasy smell it always did after having sat there unused for so long. A perfect way to welcome in the season.
Collette was almost jealous of Buffalo, New York, who had just received two feet of snow. And only just October.
Diana would also be home later that night for Velvet and Alphonso’s wedding, where she was to be one the maids of honor.
That morning, Collette had been praying for Great-Uncle Fred. But just as no one called Great-Aunt Rebecca, Great-Aunt, no one called Great-Uncle Fred, Great-Uncle. Everybody liked Uncle Fred. He had never married (for a very unselfish reason) and had lived alone for so long, until he moved to a retirement home. Collette could picture him spending several hours a day reading thick books and researching historical documents, planting petunias, and having a root beer with the fellows down the hall over a competitive game of checkers on the front patio, if there was a front patio. Maybe an old-fashioned prayer meeting every week. How could anyone not like Uncle Fred; he loved helping everybody. His church adored him.
Upon arrival at the office that morning, Collette was pleased that she had brought her winter coat. The heater was not working. Despite that her breakfast apple nearly froze to her teeth, and the space heater barely whiffed out any recognizable heat more than two inches from its grate, at least she had gloves in her pockets.
Later in the afternoon, Stephanie Buttercup, Gholden Chaumiere, and her three kids, Noel, Dainka, and John Smith, came to fold bulletins. They were fun people – the Chaumiere family giving a hearty welcome when Collette opened the door, and didn’t seem to mind that the heater was out in the building. And they seemed to have a regular party back in the conference room, talking about fish (and tilapia from Israel), small groups, school schedules… Collette wondered if Gholden packed the kids’ school lunches in brightly-colored lunch boxes every day with ham and cheese sandwiches, carrot and celery sticks, and Oreos. She could picture Gholden doing something like that for her kids.
It was also the night of Joe’s senior party bonfire back at the house. They had purchased 700+ watt light bulbs to light the yard for volleyball and they were going to carve ’07 into a few pumpkins. There would also be large thermoses of hot chocolate with the usual bonfire fare, including s’mores, of course.
Meanwhile, OLeif and Collette spent that evening at Ruby Tuesday, where they were greeted by a short stone-faced waiter of few words. They spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out if he was Australian or Irish. His accent was so unusual. He continued his stone-faced appearance, very refined, until he brought out their dessert.
It seemed to be a piece of many-layered chocolate cake, six inches high, topped with two scoops of caramel ice cream, Oreo pieces, and caramel, and slathered in whipped cream.
“Holy cow!” OLeif exclaimed as their waiter set the cake on the table.
Finally, Mr. Irishman/Auzzieman cracked a smile. After he brought out a box for them to bring home the rest of the cake that could not be finished, he wished them a good weekend.
Collette was also pleased that night, for it was the first time she had ever eaten vegetables on her bacon cheeseburger, or any burger for that matter. It was a victorious evening.