The Good Fortune Harvest
We drive to Emile’s on the river. Our family has been going to this restaurant since I was a baby. But Emile’s has changed. The outdoor tables that spill out toward the river are real, no longer make-shift picnic tables. Some have umbrellas made out of canvas. Very fancy. The menu lists food items before unheard of – a host of spring salads and pastas, and even a section labeled Lighter Fare.
I smile across at Andy, whose perfectly pressed shirt is buttoned neatly to the top. He is at ease. Frank appears comfortable. Mother smokes incessantly, but is chatty and smiling. Can this be my family? I ask several times as I take in the new chairs, tables, menu, and the new ease that permeates our gathering. Laura is coming to join us for dessert.
Andy slips a cigarette out of my mother’s pack and lights it with matches he has gotten out of his own pocket. He inhales deeply and blows the smoke slowly to the side of him. Then he turns to look at me, through me. “So Sis, what are your plans?”
“I have none,” I tell him, realizing he has lost the power to read me.
“I could use some help, if you’d like the work,” Andy says, drawing heavily on the cigarette.
“That would be great,” my mother pipes in. She lights her next cigarette with the one she is about to put out.
Andy has a clothing store. It’s a nice one, but I don’t have any interest in working there. Clothing and fashion have never moved me. I have spent many years contemplating what makes me tick, and what I will or won’t do in my life. I don’t feel like explaining all of it to my family right now.
“No thanks,” I say to Andy. “I appreciate the offer, but I have some things in mind that I would like to look into.”
“I thought you didn’t have any plans,” Frank says haughtily, a literalist, looking always for loopholes in people’s logic.
“Not really,” I smile at Frank. “No hard and fast plans anyway, just some ideas.”