(5)
—Originally publshed in The Roanoke Review, Fall 1996
Continued from page (4)
“Don’t be dismal, Sissy,” Grace said.
Sam smiled. “Grace, let me guess. Vivien Leigh.”
“Stop it,” Grace said.
“Shirley Booth?“ Clarissa asked.
“You’re both simply irascible,” Grace said with a scornful
wave of the hand. She took a sizzling chateaubriand from the broiler, lifted her head high and, without
a look at either of them, swept from the room.
“Judith Anderson!” Clarissa and Sam shouted together.
The highlight of the meal was Clarissa’s cherished 1953 Chambertin, a bottle
she had been saving as long as Sam had known her.
“It was the Chambertin,” Sam said, “that got us on the wine
kick. Remember?”
“Nobody but you knew about that Chambertin,” Clarissa said.
“Remember the Encyclopedia of French Wines? I bought it. You couldn’t afford it. And
the night I took you to the Owl and Turtle and we turned down the Bordeaux because it wasn’t Chateau
Margaux?”
“It’s all your fault,” Sam said to Grace, “for teaching
us the correct foods to go with the wines. I’ll never forget the Montrachet and poached
salmon.”
Grace laughed with a shake of the head. “And the crowd dropped in. That
girl who was so crazy about you, Sam—what was her name? That boy Sissy was seeing—Eric? He
got so obnoxious when the crowd of interns from Letterman showed up.” She leaned toward Clarissa,
grasped her hand, and lowered her voice. “Turned out Eric was jealous of the big handsome one
with dirty blond hair, the Army lieutenant named Jamey McIntyre, who had eyes only for you.”
“That was the night,” Sam said, “we played Eric’s record
of the Four Last Songs, and Sissy and I both cried, and Eric got so upset. Turned out he was
jealous of me.”
Clarissa stopped eating. “Four Last Songs. ‘In need and
joy we go hand in hand.’ Then that lovely last line, ‘Is this then death?’ Why did
we choose those songs? They’re really an Abschied.”
“Stop,” Grace said, "being a—what’s your word—artistic
puke. Speak English.”
TOM'S TALES