19. Cling Peaches

The exaggerated dining room overlooked a haphazardly lit overgrown patio. The curtains were pulled wide to give an unfettered view of the tangled blackened gardens. A massive dark teak table dominated the room, which continued the entry hall’s bizarre jungle motif. The three non-windowed walls of the room were painted as a trumpe l'oeil of an African village, complete with semi-nude dancing natives. Huge potted palms grew up from the walls and hung over the table. The low hanging chandelier was of ivory tusks, intertwined to form a triangle with a crystal lamp hung at each apex.  

The place settings were exquisite, all antique Blue Willow, which Thad had mooned over.

“This is the real stuff, check the bottom…” he had whispered as we first sat down, motioning me to flip over my plate and look at the mark. I swear I saw him pocket a pair of miniature blue and white salt and pepper shakers, which I assume will next show up at one of our spring luncheons.   

Thad and I were sat across from each other on the long sides of the table, with Ma’am at the head, and Esteban, who joined us after he had brought out all of the food, at the far end. The Christmas meal itself was completely odd and wrong. Steaks were served, not turkey or ham, the side dishes had nothing to do with the holiday, and for some reason everyone had a small silver salt cellar of jellybeans in front of them.

“I am so glad everyone is here!” Ma’am called from her far end of the table. She had added a thick pair of glasses to her earlier ensemble, but still squinted. Her chunky cocktail glass had still so far not left her right hand.

“Do you have any horseradish?” Thad asked Esteban, mid-bite.   

“Si, Senor Thad,” Esteban said, rising from the table to disappear through a swinging door painted with a topless dancing woman, into what I assumed was the kitchen.

“This would be much better with horseradish,” Thad said as he heaped what appeared to be collard greens into his plate.

 “What, pardon?” Ma’am said from the far end of the table. From what I could see Ma’am plate appeared to hold cookies, powered donuts, and a corn dog.

“I just said,” Thad annunciated loudly, “That this steak would be better with horseradish.”

  “Oh, yes.” Ma’am said enthusiastically lifting her crystal glass in salute. “Michael do you have enough to eat? We have so much.”

 “Oh, yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Louder” Thad said under his breath as Ma’am peered about the room like Little Stevie Wonder.

“Yes!” I yelled. “It’s all so good. Thank you.”

“Oh, good. I like to see you young people eat up.” She waved her corn dog and a piece of batter flew off and landed somewhere on the carpet below.

Esteban reentered and handed Thad a small crystal dish of horseradish. He took his seat back at the end of the table and everyone commenced eating.

As for my plate for food, I had the choice of a huge charred steak, three bean salad, menudo, and tomato aspic, none of which appealed to me.

“Do you have your pantry filled yet, sweetie?” Ma’am said with a loud smack, finishing her cocktail. She was looking at Thad, who was not looking up. She tinked her glass with a fingernail and Esteban rose.

“She’s talking to you,” I hissed at Thad.

“What?” Thad said looking up with a mouthful of steak.

“Do you have your pantry filled for winter yet? In case we have another blizzard like we did last year and we lose power?”

“No, no, I don’t. Do you?” Thad said, looking back to his plate. He was still being oddly non-participatory like he had been all day. I couldn’t believe he was still so mad at me for last night that he couldn’t even maintain polite dinner conversation with his grandmother.     

Esteban walked over to Ma’am, took her glass, and then went to the big buffet along the wall behind me to fill it with a brown syrupy liquid from a crystal decanter. He returned to hand it to her, Ma’am not acknowledging him once during the entire silent process. She took a long drink. Esteban walked back to his seat at the end of the table and rejoined us.  

“Well, yes,” Ma’am said with concern. “I have canned goods and water and batteries and a radio run by a crank and clean linens and pillows just in case. And you should take it seriously. They published a list in the paper. I cut it out and taped to the ice box. I made Esteban go buy all of the items listed we didn’t have. Esteban did you find that old hand can opener?”

“Si.”

“Oh, good. We have lots of cans of peaches. You know how I like peaches. Cling peaches. When I was last at the doctor, the nice receptionist Betty, or Sally, no, Betty, gave me a Red Cross brochure about how to prepare for power outages.”

“It won’t be that bad, Ma’am. Don’t freak out.” Thad said.

 “I am not a freak out about this,” Ma’am countered sternly. “If the power goes out, we could be attacked.”

“Attacked by whom?” Thad laughed 

“The poor,” Ma’am said loudly.

I chortled much more loudly than I meant to, but as no one was paying attention to me it was fine.  

“If the power goes off,” She continued, “the poor could attack. They’ve done it before, in the 60’s. I saw a TV program on it.”

I looked around, trying to figure out if I was being punked or not. 

Thad coughed loudly and looked embarrassed. “Ma’am, surely not. Not in this neighborhood.” 

Ma’am nodded, “Oh, yes, in this neighborhood. The poor will go for the big houses first, and I don’t have much money, but they don’t know that, and they’ll take whatever they can. I’ve seen it on the TV. The Fox News lady said it. When the power goes out, they’ll riot, and they’ll come here and take everything and maybe even kill me.”

In a very quaint old lady way, I could tell Ma’am was quite serious.

Ma’am took another drink. “And that’s why you should have your pantry full of batteries and water and canned cling peaches. Esteban, did you find the hand can opener?”

“Si.”

Ma’am continued. “Good. But I’m afraid of the poor rioting the most. So I’ve had Esteban load my gun.”

“Oh for God’s sake no!” Thad gasped.

He looked at Esteban, who shrugged silently.

“Why did you load her gun?” Thad snapped at him.

Esteban shrugged again, “Ma’am told me too.”

Thad looked to his grandmother. “You do not need to keep a loaded gun in this house; you are too old for that. We’ve talked about that gun before.”

“But the poor,” Ma’am said, head tilted to the side like a sad little confused angel. 

“There’s not going to be any rioting if the power goes out.” Thad gasped, “It’s just news hype to sell batteries and bottled water and scare the old people, which it’s apparently done just fine.”

“They might riot.” Ma’am said, “And I plan to be prepared.”

I watched all of this unfold like an insane tennis match.

Thad whipped back to hiss at Esteban, “Unload that gun, got it?”

“Si,” Esteban said, his expression unchanged.

“I mean it, amigo.” Thad added with a point of his knife. 

“Si.” Esteban did not blink.

“What did you say to him?” Ma’am asked, leaning forward in her chair, the ice in her cocktail glass tinkling.

“Nothing,” Thad snapped and then sheepishly smiled at me, as I guess I had a look of complete and absolute horror on my face.

Everyone went back to eating.

The rest of the meal was about as colorful.