The Honey Well

by Gloria Mallette

  “Before we order,” Tony said. “Porti un’altra bottiglia di chianti—bring another bottle of chianti,” Tony said. “James, what are you drinking?”

  “Does anyone care that I’m hungry?” Esther asked.

  Arnell’s heart sank. The moment of laughter and frivolous chatter was gone.

  “Ma’am, I could bring you the bread basket.”

  “That would be really nice.”

  Arnell closed her eyes. If only she could twitch her nose and disappear.

  After looking at Arnell, James ordered, “Two white zinfandels.”

  “Porti la bottiglia—bring the bottle,” Tony said.

  “Right away, sir. And, ma’am, I’ll bring that bread immediately.”

  “Thank you.” But then Esther mumbled, “Someone seems to care.”

  Arnell cut her eyes at Esther. “Why are you so petty?”

  Esther smirked. “People do say that we are very much alike, sweetie.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Signore—ladies,” Tony said, “Let’s play nice.”

  Arnell felt like she was being wrongly chastised. She pouted.

  James began to rub Arnell’s back in a slow circular motion. Arnell stilled her tongue. She folded her arms and looked across the room.

  Esther sipped her wine.

  “Mrs. Rayford—”

  “James, we’re not strangers. It’s Esther, dear, or I won’t speak to you anymore.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Arnell knew she was not going to make it through dinner. She had to put an end to the phoniness. “Wouldn’t you rather he called you Queen Esther, Mother?”

  Esther leveled a reproachful look at Arnell. “Esther will do just fine.”

  James glanced at Tony. Tony nodded, giving his approval, so James looked again at Esther. “Esther, Arnell and I sat out in the car talking for a minute. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

  Arnell could feel her blood pressure rise. “Don’t apologize to her. We were on time.”

  “Perhaps, sweetie, but we did wait twenty minutes.”

  “Esther, let it go,” Tony advised. “You really can’t fault others for making you wait if you come early.”

  “Fine.” Esther mimed zipping her lips.

  Arnell shook her head. Esther was always difficult, but tonight, she was worse than ever. It was like she was challenging her as Tony had challenged James.

  James was determined to be the peacemaker. “Tony, I must say, waiting becomes Esther. She looks great. She must have had Arnell when she was a teenager.”

  Smiling, Esther lifted her glass to James, but it was Arnell she spoke to. “Sweetie, if you weren’t my daughter, I’d steal this handsome, charming young man from you.”

  “Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I’d have something to say about that, and so would Tony.”

  “Oh, Arnell, lighten up. Tony’s not a stuffy old prude like you. Are you, Tony?”

  “I’ve never been accused of being a prude, though I have been accused of being naughty.” He winked at Esther.

  Esther blew Tony a kiss. “James, I hope you’re not an old stick in the mud like Arnell. You weren’t offended by what I said, were you?”

  Under the table, James nudged Arnell on the thigh. “Esther, I like your style. If Arnell wasn’t your daughter, and Tony wasn’t such a big, strong man, I just might let you steal me.”

  Arnell sucked her teeth hard. Now she wanted to slap James.

  Esther giggled. “Oh, James, you’re just as naughty as Tony.”

  Smiling, Tony drank a hearty swig of wine.

  Again, James nudged Arnell. He smiled at her and Esther both.

  James’s nudging told Arnell that he believed he was winning Esther over, but she was disgusted all the same. Their flirting was nauseating her. She hated the stupid grin on James’s face. She hated that he was taken in by Esther’s obvious flirting, or if he wasn’t, that he had to play Esther’s game to impress her. But Arnell wasn’t stupid. She knew that Esther wasn’t playing the game James thought she was—a little tease, a little taunt. Esther was playing the “fuck with Arnell game.” The object—to break her will. Esther was the innovator and creator of that game. The flirting, however, was new to the game. Never had Esther been this blatant before with any of her few male friends, but then again, she had never been engaged before.

  “Tony, maybe you and I should leave these two to eat alone,” Arnell said.

  “Arnell, what I tell you about life?”

  She hoped that her blank, disinterested look told Tony she didn’t know or care which little pearl he was referring to.

  “If you keep taking people and life so seriously, you will end up having a heart attack on a merry-go-round.”

  Arnell smirked. “Maybe the merry-go-round I’m on has runaway horses that can’t be reined in.”

  “Sweetie, all horses can, eventually, be reined in,” Esther said, winking at James.

  Arnell had had enough. “James, I’m leaving.”

  “Baby, your mother is only playing with you,” James said.

  “You’re too serious, Arnell,” Tony said.

  Esther again lay her hand on Arnell’s arm. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. Dinner wouldn’t be any fun and certainly the food won’t taste good without you.”

  “Well, Mother,” Arnell said, brushing Esther’s hand off her arm as if she were brushing off an annoying fly, “you have so much sugar on your tongue you won’t be able to appreciate the taste of the food anyway.”

  Esther brought her hand to her chest. “My, but I do think that my baby girl is a wee bit jealous.” She winked at Tony.

  Tony simply shook his head. “James, I’m use to these two going at it. I’ve learned to stand back out of the line of fire.”

  “I can see why.” James opened his menu. “Where are those drinks?”

  Arnell wanted—no, needed—to wipe the smirk off of Esther’s face. “Mother, since I’m getting ready to marry James, shouldn’t he know everything about our family business?”

  James was only half listening, he was studying the menu.

  “Everything like what, sweetie?” Esther glanced at Tony and back at Arnell. A knowing little smile crept onto her lips.

  “Oh, you know, Mother. I think James should—”

  The waiter appeared. He set a basket of steaming-hot, sliced garlic bread on the table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Avrò mio usuale—I’ll have my usual,” Tony said, not wasting time on the menu.

  James and Tony both took a piece of buttery garlic bread.

  Esther didn’t even glance at the bread. She was looking at Arnell.

  A wineglass was placed in front of Arnell. While the waiter set James’s glass in front of him and began working at uncorking the bottle of zinfandel, Arnell locked eyes with Esther. Not surprising, there was a devilish glint in Esther’s eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. Arnell knew that look well. When she was a little girl, Esther taught her how to play poker. For the longest time, Esther always beat her because Arnell could not read the look on Esther’s face. After losing more times than she could keep count of, Arnell learned that an easy little smile meant that Esther had an okay hand, while a mischievous smirk along with a devilish glint meant that Esther had a fabulous hand, that she was holding all the right cards. And that’s what Esther thought she had now—all the right cards. Normally, Arnell would have tossed in her hand. Not this time. There was too much at stake. Besides, she had learned a thing or two about poker herself.

  The waiter filled Arnell and James’s glasses with the caramel-colored wine.

  James tasted his wine. It was good. “I’m ready to order,” he said, studying his menu. “You ladies ready? I’m thinking about having the veal scaloppine.”

  Esther never opened her menu. She continued looking at Arnell. “Veal sounds good. I’ll start with the melon prosciutto and then I’ll have the veal parmesan with spaghetti. Go light on the sauce. What about you, sweetie? Y
ou love veal parmesan. But, waiter, tell the chef to go light on the cheese. My daughter can take just so much cheese. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  Esther’s audacity amazed Arnell. This was a high-stakes game and Esther was daring Arnell to trump her.

  The waiter held his pen ready to continue writing.

  “Arnell, are you having the veal parmesan?” James asked.

  She dragged her eyes off Esther. The waiter was looking at her, and so were James and Tony.

  Esther solicitously lay her hand on Arnell’s hand. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  There it was again. That creepy feeling she got whenever Esther touched her. Arnell pulled her hand away. “I hate it when you call yourself humoring me.”

  “Sweetie, I’m not doing any such thing. Boy, are you sensitive.”

  In that instant, Arnell made up her mind to do what she had come there to do. She eased her hand from under Esther’s.

  “Waiter, I will not be having the veal parmesan. In fact, I won’t be ordering.”

  “What?” James closed his menu. “You’re not eating?”

  “Arnell,” Tony said, “guardarme—look at me.”

  She did because Tony’s face was the only face that she could look into and not be afraid.

  “Non lei me fida di, fa lei—you trust me, don’t you?”

  Arnell didn’t know where Tony was trying to take her but she did not want to be led away from what she was about to do. She didn’t answer him.

  Quietly, Esther sat back. She crossed her legs and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

  “You do trust me, don’t you?” Tony asked.

  Finally, “Yeah. And?”

  “You know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  “I know that, Tony. So what are you trying to say?”

  The waiter cleared his throat.

  It was Tony that the waiter was looking at. It was Tony who said, “Lo chiameremo quando siamo pronti—we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

  The waiter immediately walked off.

  “What’s going on?” James asked.

  Tony took Arnell’s hand. “You’re like my own daughter, il mio sangue—my blood. You know that I will take care of anything or anyone that causes you unhappiness.”

  “Arnell, has someone done something to you?” James asked. “Is this about Friday night?”

  It was as if James hadn’t spoken. Tony held Arnell’s gaze. “I know what happened. I’m sorry.”

  Arnell teared.

  “What happened?” James asked, clearly frustrated. No one was answering him.

  Esther busied herself with folding her napkin.

  “I’ve never let you down before, have I?”

  Arnell barely shook her head.

  “Well, then. Trust me. Everything is going to be just fine—in three weeks when that problem comes back to town. I promise you.”

  “Okay,” James said, looking at Tony. “I feel like an outsider here. Arnell, what is this about?”

  She finally looked at James. “Actually, James, something quite ugly happened to me.”

  Esther cleared her throat. “I don’t think you should speak about this.”

  “I don’t care what you think. James, I have to tell you something.”

  “I’m listening, baby.”

  “Sweetie, I know you’re upset, but—”

  “Sweetie! Baby! Don’t you people know my damn name? I’m a grown woman. For God sake, call me by my damn name!”

  James was dumbstruck.

  Outwardly, Esther was cool—it was her mind that was frantically searching for a way to stop Arnell.

  Diners around Arnell were looking at her, talking about her. As angry as she was, she had enough sense to be embarrassed by her big mouth.

  Tony gulped down his wine, emptying his glass. He glanced over Arnell’s shoulder at the couple sitting with their two young sons at the next table. They had overheard Arnell and were looking at her. The woman was frowning disapprovingly, the kids looked just as shell-shocked as James, but the man never stopped eating. Tony liked that—this was not a man’s argument. He looked at Esther. Her eyes looked pained. She had her hand over her heart. She was pressing her fingers into her skin, trying to massage her heart.

  “Esther, are you all right?”

  “How can I be all right? My daughter hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t. Arnell, you don’t hate your mother, do you?”

  “Tony, I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Do what?” James asked.

  Again, Tony ignored James. “Arnell, let me talk to you in private.”

  “No, Tony, this has to be done here, out in public. Oh”—she chuckled dryly—“Tony, this is too funny. You’re the one that told me that ‘things done in the dark will come out in the light.’ ”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Don’t . . . waste . . . your breath, Tony,” Esther said, sounding out of breath. “Let Arnell . . . ruin her . . . life if . . . if—”

  “I think you did that when I was sixteen. Mother, do you have any remorse for what you’ve done to me?”

  Esther began to slowly knead the left side of her chest.

  James slapped the table. “I’m two seconds from walking out of this restaurant.”

  “Esther”—Tony was gently patting Esther’s hand—“here, drink some water.” He held the glass to Esther’s lips. Esther did not drink.

  “Well, James,” Arnell looked at Esther. She saw how Esther was beginning to take long, labored breaths.

  James’s attention was divided between Esther and Arnell. He didn’t know what was going on, he just knew that he didn’t like it.

  “This is about who I am,” Arnell explained. “It’s about the lie I’ve lived all my adult life. If we are to have a future—”

  “Wait a minute, Arnell,” James said. “Your mother looks pretty ill.”

  Esther’s eyes closed. Her breathing became labored gasps, alarming Tony. “Esther, are you all right?” He got up and gestured to the waiter to come.

  James also rose from his chair.

  Esther’s arms dropped and dangled at her side. “I . . . pain.” Grimacing, Esther dropped her head back.

  Arnell flipped her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s faking.”

  James went to help Tony with Esther. “Arnell, your mother is sick!”

  The waiter rushed over.

  “Chiamare 911—call 911!” Tony ordered.

  The waiter rushed off.

  Tony began fanning Esther with his hand. “Arnell, check your mother’s bag for her medicine.”

  “What medicine?”

  “Arnell, check her bag!” Tony ordered.

  “Tony, she’s faking. I’m telling you. She’s faking.”

  “Arnell!” James exploded. “Your mother has a bad heart. Look at her!”

  Esther’s face was contorted into a mask of anguish. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open as she gasped for air, but still, Arnell couldn’t believe that Esther had a bad heart. It was a manipulative lie. If Esther was sick, she would have told her a thousand times over by now. For one thing, Esther was always scheming for sympathy and a bad heart would have given her a huge leg up. No, this was just Esther manipulating the situation. Esther knew that if she told James about her life, James would leave her and Esther would lose her power over her. That’s what this bad acting was all about.

  Refusing to be drawn into Esther’s game, Arnell watched Tony grab Esther’s pocketbook off her lap. “She has both of you fooled.”

  James held Esther’s head up. “Arnell, what’s wrong with you? How can you be so cold?” He grabbed the napkin Esther had been folding and shook it out with a pop. He dabbed Esther’s forehead with it as Tony began rummaging around inside Esther’s pocketbook.

  Watching the two of them fuss over Esther, Arnell began to feel less certain that Esther was faking. Esther had broken out in a cold sweat and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
Her face was strained and ashen. Fine veins had popped up around her eyes. Esther looked startlingly old.

  “I can’t find her pills,” Tony announced anxiously. “She was supposed to carry them at all times.”

  Arnell couldn’t believe it. “She really has pills prescribed by a medical doctor?”

  “Esther didn’t want you worrying about her. She’s been keeping her illness from you. She has angina.”

  “Since when?”

  “About a year now, and stressing her out isn’t helping.”

  “But she drinks alcohol. And, Tony, you know she smokes.”

  “You know your mother, Arnell. She’s stubborn. She does what she wants.” Tony still rummaged for Esther’s medicine. “I can’t find a damn thing in this bag.”

  Arnell shot out of her chair. She grabbed the pocketbook from Tony. Expertly, she went right to the bottom. She swept her hand from one side to the other until she thought she found what Tony had been looking for. She pulled out a small brown plastic bottle with a white cap. She read it—Nitroglycerine. Arnell’s own heart pulsed hard.

  Tony snatched the bottle from Arnell’s hand. He poured all of the tiny white pills into his powerful hand. He took one pill and stuck it under Esther’s tongue. The rest he poured back into the bottle, dropping a few onto the floor.

  A sick feeling slammed Arnell in the pit of her stomach. Could it be true that her mother really had heart trouble? Esther should have told her. But no, Esther had to play games and wait to use it to her advantage. Always, Esther had to have her way.

  Arnell was pushed aside as paramedics began working on Esther. Helplessly, she watched as an oxygen mask was strapped onto Esther’s face and her blood pressure taken. It was Tony who told the paramedics about Esther’s heart condition and that he had given her a nitroglycerine tablet. Esther was laid out on a stretcher and wheeled out of the restaurant. Still unable to move on her own, Arnell was aware that it was Tony and not James that took her by the waist and walked her outside and put her in his car for the ride to the hospital. She didn’t know if James was following behind them or not; she hadn’t heard a word that had been spoken between him and Tony. She hadn’t heard much of anything except the sound of the siren screaming as it rushed her mother to the hospital.