Shuttleworth's, Lunch

Shuttleworth's is half underground and looks there are several carpeted steps leading down.  The entire restaurant looks like it is  strapped in a diploma and stowed in an unopened bottle off Merlot, svelte burgundy dark red, the kind of red that is massaged deeper gradations of a jazz cocktail lounge.

Even though it is a Banquet hall there are side rooms. The groups are being split. My entire anatomy feels like a periscope.. There are several tables smashed together in the center of the room allowing groups of eight or more to sit. The bulk of the room consists of side tables, capable of seating three or four.

I am looking for Harmony. I want to sit next to her. I want to inquire if she wishes to attend the dance with me tonight when I hear someone saying my name.

It is Mark. He is seated on the side table next to the wall all by himself. Immediately I abandon the two Big Tenners in front of me and at the table with my mentor.

“Hey man, whatdid you think about the Changing of the Guard.”

Mark states what Guard. What changing. He states that he was on the bus that got caught in the parade so they missed the entire thing.

“You weren’t missing much man. It was packed. Everyone was balancing on everyone elses’ shoulders. You didn’t miss much man. I think it was actually overrated.”

Mark shoots a smile back to me.  As I turn around New Yawk Denis from Mark’s group is seated across the table from me. Next to Mark. I like Denis. I love his accent. Denis seems to begin every sentence with the word yo. When I note why he claims it is a New Yawk  thing

Before I realize both Mark and Denis look around with stealth eyebrows as if they do not wish to be seen. They reach over and purloin all the sugar packets and wedge them into the side pockets of their complimentary Parade. I ask them what they are doing.

"We decided to collect souvenirs." Mark states, telling Denis that it is clear. I feel like readily informing Mark that I'm sure the Gloucester has sugar packets they could use when Denis makes a very overt swipes with his head in a caricatured fashion that makes it obvious that he is looking both ways before picking up the salt and pepper shaker and filching the receptacles in his pockets as well.

My mouth configures into a horseshoe. I am almost appalled. The is Big Ten behavior.

There is one place left at our table. I am hanging out with Mark and a fellow member of his group. As I look up Daisy’s counselor is next to us.

She is talking really fast.

"Hey I've been wanting to hang out with you guys for the trip to you guys mind 

It is Simone. It is a counselor. I can't believe a counselor from a different group wants to hang out with us.  

“I know you,” I tell Simone,“You’re the head counselor of Daisy’s group.” She is smiling. She offers an everyone know Daisy.

I want to apologize because I know the Big Ten has been insufferable for much of the trip. Simone doesn't seem to mind. She is looking at either Mark of Denis as if she has a crush.  The maitre-d has a short pencil mustache and is purportedly french. The plates are readily set down in front of us, It appears to be beef once again. The moment the meal is placed down a member of Simone's group comes up next to her in tears.

"Be just a second guys," She says,

The moment Simone leaves both Denis and Mark attack her plate.As if they are anxious onlookers in the Anatomy of Dr. Nicholas Tulp, Dennis and Mark continue to jab their utensils into the platter of food in front of them. They cut her beef in half. They pocket the silverware. The Maitre-d come up and holds up the dissected plate in front of both Mark and Denis and says something admonishing in french.

Both Mark and Denis look at the Maitre-d like they have no clue what he is alluding to.

Mark publicly grouses about ties twice stating that he doesn’t care if we are scheduled to meet the Lord Mayor of London tomorrow, there is just no way he is going to monopolize another day of his trip wearing a tie. Denis is laughing. My youthful visage oscillates like a classroom globe around the table wondering out loud what happened to Simone.

Denis and Mark are looking at me. They are smiling. Somehow they have accepted.

Simone comes back. She is older She graduated high school when I was in fifth grade. She doesn't even seem to notice her plate.

“I’m sorry guys. There’s just 14 year old drama.”

She leaves her plate. Before she leaves she says that she was really looking to hanging out with you guys. She doesn’t even realize that her plate has been dissected.

Denis stops inquires if Simone is on my bus. I nod in concurrence.

“She’s pretty cool man. You must have a really cool bus.”

I tell Denis that I despise my bus. I tell Denis that I wish I was on any other bus than the bus I am on.

“How's thing going with that one girl? What's her name? Harmony?”

Part of my body blushes and slinks near my collar bone. Dennis and Mark-Andrew break out into a rendition of Ebony and Ivory supplanting Harmony's name. There is laughter. I feel accepted. I am blushing. I am teh new guy. I am being hazed.

“That Harmony chick is pretty cool man.”  Denis says, after he quits singing, after Mark, in perfect English makes a comment about enough Adult Contemporary nostalgia from the early 80’s.

“Yeah She’s pretty special too. We danced in Stratford. We were holding each other really tight and I thought we had some sort of a bond even though it’s been kind weird since them.”

Denis inquires how so.

“I don’t know. We seem to really hit it off when we met then she has been somewhat elusive ever since. I can’t explain. One minute she’s out of control smiling the next minute she is talking about Lynn Minton the next minute she looks at me like we have never met.

Denis is smiling. He says something about not being able to live with women or without them. I still do not have my glasses on. I inquire why. He shrugs. He responds back by saying yo, you know the saying, yo.

“I want to ask her to the dance tonight. I mean, I know unless you are Lover Boy Nat this isn’t a couples trip or anything but I really want to ask her to the dance tonight.”

“You think she will go with you?”

I shrug as if pretending I am clueless in a game of charades. Mark smiles. Denis points.

“Yo, Harmony is right over there. You should like go and talk to her. You should like go and ask her now’

I say what followed by an exclamatory gasp. Harmony is seated less than three tables from where I am seated. She is on the edge of a table with eight.  I didn’t see her because I wasn’t wearing my glasses. 

"Go ask her now bro,"  I don't know what to say. I tell them I am nervous. Before I realize it both Mark and Denis are singing Ebony and Ivory again.


I am apprehensive.  I walk to her table. 


I say hello.

                                                                         ***

I see her visage on something called MySpace 14 years later. Her face is glowing, It is emanating, She is a writer She is a play write. She lived in New York. She kicked ass. She wrote a play that was performed about Matthew Mcconaughey She looks exactly like I remember her, only with shorter hair. There is a glow encircling her cheekbones; She is radiant.  She is accomplished. She has perfect teeth. She was an English major in college. She is in Los Angeles. She is victorious. She is classy. She is accomplished.   She tells me about Chakras. About auroras. She mandates that I read Wheels of Light. She seems intrigued that I am writing a book about something that happened so long ago.

She asks me why I still want to live in the soil of the past all those years we left behind.

                                                                           ***

I am talking to the deity who has gone out of her way to blow me off the entire duration of the trip I volley back at the table. Mark and Denis are facing in the direction of Harmony’s chin. It is almost as if they are awaiting her nod.  At the table there are several counselors and several members of bus number three.  I get down on one knee because there is not a lot of room between her table and the table next. I am saying so yeah I am saying yeah. I uttering year. I am confirming something that is no longer in existence. The last time I spoke with Harmony was this morning in the lobby. Down the table I see who Vinny and Sam refer to as our Wendy. She looks irked. She is inquiring why I am down on one knee observing that I look like a used shoes salesman.

Eric, Sam’s counselor, he future theologian from Georgetown brushes past me and  places both hands on my shoulders.

“See, that’s what I’m talkin about baby. Gentleman.”

I state again. I state Harmony. I state oh. I state so tonight. I am warbling. I am unsure how to convey what I am trying to express in words.

Harmony blinks several times. From the back ground I can see Mark and Denis pumped their hands several times in a row before trying to fit the glasses underneath their coats.

I tell Harmony I will see her tonight.

She is nothing but smiles.