DOUBLE TROUBLE (Part Two)

The morning of the football game began with a light drizzle, but by the time we met our friends in the lobby, the sky had opened up, and the angels spit down in torrents. It was a miserable weather day. I was convinced that my obituary would read, “Drowned at a football game.”

W.S. sat between Claris and Cheris holding a tarp to shield all of them from the rain. However, each time his team made a touchdown, he’d jump up and empty the collected water into their laps. As expected, they screamed in unison. He’d mumble a remorseful, “Sorry,” until it happened all over again. Fortunately, he didn’t drench them too often since his team lost, which really put a damper on the rest of the day.

After checking out of the hotel, we stopped for a consolation lunch at the ALL YOU CAN EAT CHUCKWAGON, where we tested their truth in advertising to the best of our stomachs’ abilities. Getting back into the car, I pushed Cheris into the middle backseat and clung to the armrest. “What time are Hank and Maxine expecting us?” I asked. “Don’t call him “Hank” said Cheris. It’s “Henry.” He’s a dentist. “Is it because Hank sounds too much like yank?” I asked, but no one dignified my question with an answer. “I told them we’d get to their house at about four o’clock,” George replied. “I’m glad they aren’t expecting us for dinner,” I said. “I’m stuffed.”

When we arrived, Maxine greeted us at the door with a big smile showing off beautifully gleaming teeth. “So glad you are finally here,” she said. “The chili has been cooking for hours and hours.” Entering the house, we saw a fully set table, and what looked like a baby’s bathtub filled with chili. “It’s Maxine’s secret recipe,” said Henry. “You must be starving.”

We all looked at George. He said to Maxine, “Didn’t I mention that we’d stop and get something to eat along the way?” “Well, I just knew you’d be hungry anyway,” said Maxine. “Thank you, but I can’t eat a thing.” I said. “I really can’t” But Henry pushed me into a chair and tied a napkin around my neck. “That’s so you won’t get spots,” he said.

I wasn’t planning on getting any spots, because there was no way I could eat even a spoonful of that chili. I didn’t even know these people, and I didn’t feel like being nice for even five more minutes. I was praying they would have a dog under the table, but no such luck. They had a goldfish. For a minute, I asked myself, “Do goldfish eat chili?” My stomach was starting to do CHUCKWAGON flip-flops. I knew I could not even fake eating a spoonful of that chili, and I did not want to hurt the feelings of this gracious hostess.

By now, it had turned into a beautiful afternoon. The window was open, so I carried my bowl to the window, leaned out and said, “What lovely rosebushes. Do you take care of them yourselves?” “No,” said Maxine. “We have a gardener.” That was good enough for me!

“Oh,” said Maxine, “Your bowl is empty. Do you want more?” “No,” I said, “I’ve had more than enough. Thank you very much.” After we said our goodbyes, I asked Claris. ”Did anyone find out about Maxine’s secret chili ingredient?” No one had, but all the way home I suspected that it was extra beans---lots and lots of extra beans.

Esther Blumenfeld

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006