Table For Two

"Table for two?

"Uh, yeah. Anything on the porch?" Sam said, as he simultaneously eyed the raw bar with its glistening oysters on the half shell, nestled in shaved ice. The shrimp looked gorgeous too, mammoth pink crescents surrounded by thinly sliced lemon.

"It's your lucky day," the waitress beamed. She scooped up two menus and signaled for the couple to follow. Sam looked over his shoulder at Carla, smiled like he'd won the lottery, then grasped at her hand.

"Our luck's gonna change, baby, huh?"

Carla tipped her chin to Sam and tried to muster a smile as he pulled her through the crowded tables, toward the open air porch at the Rudder, like a toy boat on a string. It was thirty minutes or so until dusk, and the crowd seemed to buzz in anticipation of yet another pink and purple sky.  The tables were all topped with white cotton cloths that flapped in the breeze, a dining regatta. Sunburned diners quaffed cold beer and Bloodies and everybody seemed to talk at the same time; too loud for indoor dining, but pitch perfect for the Rudder, especially out here on the porch.  

"Hope this table will do for you," the waitress said as she pulled out a chair for Carla. "Gotcha a front row seat."

"Aww, couldn't do better than this," Sam said, sucking in a deep belly of the salted air, as he took in the view. Tiny sailboats rocked to an unheard lullaby with their sails all furled and roped in tight. In for the night. It made Sam feel peaceful inside just to look at them.

"Can I start you with something cold to drink? An app? Specials tonight are mussels in wine and garlic...to die for. And we have artichoke bottoms dressed with crab and cheese. That's been a popular item , tonight..."

"We'll have two glasses of champagne. Your best. And the mussels...we gotta go for the mussels, huh, Carla?"

"Sure, Sam," Carla said, glancing up at the bubbly waitress. "That sounds lovely..." Carla cast her eyes out over the water and a smile rippled across her face, so faint that she barely felt it there. She loved it here at Rocky Neck, with the breeze tossing her hair and the sun bending its gold light across the water.

"Champagne...I thought we needed champagne.  To celebrate, honey. That we are in love, and we're healthy...and we'll try again."

Try again. With those two words, Carla felt the hollow in her womb, heard her own wailing echoing inside her head. She felt the tears coming, but sucked in some air to keep them at bay."Yeah, okay...champagne." It felt so wrong to her. Bubbles to tickle her nose. But Sam looked so sincere, so sure that it was right. She opted for their favorite diversion.

"Which boat would you pick, honey, if you had a choice?" It was the game they played every time they came to the Rudder. Tonight, Carla wanted to sail away in one of those boats and never look inside herself again.

"Uh, let's see," Sam said, as he scanned the bobbing boats. "I like the..." he drew out his words, "..the flashy blue one. How about you?"

Carla looked away from the boats as the champagne arrived.

"Which one, honey?" Sam persisted.

"Shall I pop the cork?" asked the waitress, ceremoniously tipping the Dom Perignon label at Sam.

"No. Not yet....which one, honey?"

Carla looked around, people seemed to be pausing, forkfuls of food hovering, glasses lifted expectantly.

"Don't be silly, Sam. You know that my favorite is the Lydia. Just look at her. Her green hull and her white cabin. Pure class. I wait to see her here every year." Carla looked back at Sam and straightened the napkin on her lap. "The owner lives up there, on the hill." Carla pointed to the large shingled house with the turret and two porches. "Sam? Shouldn't we let the waitress pour?"

"Darlin'?" Sam said as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small brass key. "She's all yours."

Carla heard the champagne pop, heard the diners clap. There on the table, the little key winked at her. Inscribed ... Lydia.