A Catered Affair

by Sue Margolis

  “So is your nana still trying to fix you up with dates?”

  I told him that I thought I’d put a stop to it. “Saturday night was the last straw. She and her friend Millie hooked me up with a witch doctor … called Derek … from Battersea.”

  “How can a witch doctor be called Derek?”

  “That’s what I said. The point is that Millie thought he was a rich doctor.”

  Kenny burst out laughing.

  “You think that’s funny? That’s nothing. Let me tell you about the Elephant Man.”

  By the time I’d finished the tale, Kenny was laughing so hard his eyes were watering.

  Eventually we got back to our pizza. “So seriously,” he said, “what sort of man are you looking for?”

  “Well,” I said, about to recite my father’s mantra, “I’m looking for somebody who’s educated, a professional who’s good at what he does and has a similar outlook on life as mine. I’m attracted to people who think about the world and want to make a difference. Josh did a lot of charity work in Africa. That was one of the things that drew me to him.”

  “So with you, a guy has to meet predetermined requirements?”

  “OK, maybe that sounds superficial, but the way I see it, if you’re looking for a soul mate, you need to find somebody with a similar background to you, who shares your worldview … So what about you? What sort of women do you date?”

  “Steph was in PR. Rachel before her worked in advertising.”

  “So is there anything particular that you look for?”

  He shrugged. “Physical attraction aside, I’m not sure I look for anything specific. I think it comes down to that thing you can’t define. Chemistry, I suppose. You always know when you find it.”

  We watched a couple of episodes of The Office, which I loved, but he clearly loved more because as the actors delivered their lines he would recite them simultaneously: “If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I’d have to throw myself in front of a train.”

  Each recitation ended with him bursting out laughing and saying “genius” or “brilliant.”

  I asked him if he made a habit of learning sitcom scripts off by heart. “God, yeah. I know great chunks of Seinfeld.”

  I said it had to be one of the best shows of all time, along with Frasier and Friends.

  “And since it’s been on cable,” I said, “I’ve really got into Monty Python. I can do the entire dead parrot sketch.”

  “Me, too.”

  “‘’Ello, I wish to register a complaint,’” I began … “‘I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.’”

  “Hang on—how does that last bit go? ‘This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be … This is an ex-parrot.’”

  By now we were laughing so hard that we couldn’t carry on.

  Even though we were having a great time and it was barely ten o’clock, we decided to call it a night. The next morning, Kenny was catering a corporate breakfast in the City and he had to be in Liverpool Street by eight, frying bacon and eggs.

  Fifteen minutes after Kenny left, I was in bed. For once, my eyelids were drooping. Tonight I wasn’t going to have any trouble sleeping.

  I was just dozing off when the phone rang. I sat bolt upright. Whenever the phone rang late at night, my thoughts always went to Nana and that she was ill or had had an accident. “Hey, it’s me, Kenny. I wasn’t sure whether to call this late, but I imagined you lying in bed tossing and turning and I thought you’d want to hear this. I just got home and made a lettuce sandwich, with a touch of mayo to give it some flavor, and already I’m feeling drowsy. I really think you should give it a try.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Thanks for that, Kenny. I really appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I lay back down and tried to sleep. An hour later I was still wide-awake. There was only one thing to be done. I got up and headed to the fridge. There I found the limp, brown-edged remains of a lettuce. I managed to find a few fresh-looking leaves, which I washed, shredded and lay on a slice of buttered bread. I drizzled some mayo over the top and covered the whole thing with a second slice of bread. I couldn’t be bothered to cut it in half. I took the sandwich back to bed and switched on the TV. I don’t know if it was the lettuce or Bulging Brides that sent me to sleep, but the next thing I knew, sunlight was flooding into my bedroom and the radio alarm was going off.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, I was about to leave for work when I got a call from Scarlett to say she and Grace were on the M1, heading to London. They were back for just a couple of days. Grace’s great-aunt had died the previous week and the funeral was this afternoon. I wanted them to stay overnight at the flat and said that I would decamp to the couch, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They had already arranged to stay with Grace’s cousin Loretta. We agreed to catch up for lunch the next day before they went back up north.

  That evening, I was having dinner with Hugh. From the first moment he’d tasted Nana Ida’s cooking, he developed a passion for Jewish food. Since being back, he’d discovered that a new kosher restaurant called Zvi’s had just opened in Temple Fortune and he was desperate to try it.

  When he picked me up—in the little Fiat he’d hired—he was already planning what to eat: chicken soup with noodles, salt beef with potato latkes, lokshen pudding. “I hope they put loads of cinnamon in it like your nana does.”

  Zvi’s didn’t take bookings and there was a queue into the street. It seemed that the whole of North West London wanted to try the new place. After forty-five minutes we were finally offered a table, but it meant sharing. By then we were both so hungry that we said we didn’t mind. The waiter, in a velvet yarmulke, led us to a table next to a mural of the Dead Sea.

  “Tally! Bubbie!” Omigod. I knew that voice. It was cousin Stella, daughter of smelly Uncle Alec. Sitting next to her was her husband, Maury. “How are you?” she said, heaving her bulk off her chair and pulling me to her bosom. “On second thought, I shouldn’t ask. Look at you. There’s nothing of you and you were always such a buxom girl.”

  “Gosh … Stella,” I said. “What a surprise.”

  “Don’t refer to the girl as buxom,” Maury said. He was on his feet now, hand extended towards Hugh. “It’s not polite.”

  “Sit down, Maury. You eat with your top pants button undone. What do you know about polite?” She was looking at Hugh and smiling. “So … is this your new young man? I have to say, you didn’t waste any time.”

  “This is Hugh,” I said. “He and I go way back. We’re just catching up.”

  “Of course you are,” Stella said, winking. “Maury, move up. Let Tally and Hugh sit down.” She paused for breath, albeit briefly. “So, tell me, Tally—far be it from me to pry, but have you heard from Josh?”

  I knew this was coming—this was Stella, after all—but it didn’t stop me feeling sick. “No. Nothing.”

  “So, was it another woman? Or did he turn out to be … ? You know.”

  “If you mean is Josh gay—no, he isn’t. And he didn’t leave me for another woman. He simply got cold feet.”

  “Huh. What a thing.”

  “Wish I’d had the guts to get cold feet,” Maury muttered.

  Without taking her eyes off me, Stella whacked Maury across his paunch. “You have to try the stuffed neck,” she said. “Apparently it’s to die for.”

  “I wouldn’t mind having a go at that,” Hugh said.

  “Have you ever tried it?” she said. “I only ask because Hugh isn’t a very Jewish name.”

  Hugh ignored the comment. “Yes, many times—at Tally’s nana Ida’s. She’s a wonderful cook.”

  “Isn’t she? Although I have to say, her plava cake tends to be a bit on the dry side.”

  Hugh and I exchanged glances.

  “And don’t fill up on the bread,” Stella said to nobody in particular. “You need to pace yourself.” Suddenly she
started wagging her finger at me. “So who’s been a naughty girl and not returned my salad spinner?”

  “I’m very sorry, Stella, but all the wedding presents were at Josh’s flat, so I left them to him to take care of.”

  “Don’t worry. It wasn’t expensive and we got a hefty discount at the cash and carry, and if you put it down to a business expense, you get back the tax, so it practically didn’t cost us anything.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said.

  Hugh and I had just started looking at the menu when, knock me down with a matzo ball, Scarlett and Grace walked in, and behind them was Josh’s cousin Napoleon and his partner, Ed.

  I started waving and calling out to Scarlett. She nudged Grace, who waved back.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I said to Scarlett. “I thought you were at cousin Loretta’s.”

  “We were. I mean, we are,” Grace said, “but my entire family is at her house weeping and wailing. I don’t get it. My aunt Desree was a hundred and three. Scarlett and I just had to get out for a couple of hours. We were on our way into town when we saw the crowd outside this place and thought we’d try it.”

  “And they ended up behind us in the queue,” Napoleon said. “Small world.” He turned to me. “It’s so good to see you, Tally.”

  “You, too.”

  “Look, are you OK with me being here? If it’s too painful, Ed and I can go.”

  If I was honest, it did feel uncomfortable being in Napoleon’s company again. I associated him with Josh and my wedding day. On the other hand, he’d been so kind to me that day and he was behaving the same way now. He really was a sweet, thoughtful soul.

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “I’d like you to stay.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. So how are you?”

  “I think I’m getting there.”

  “The healing process takes time,” he said, “but you’re looking good.”

  “She’s too skinny,” Stella piped up.

  Something made me want to ask Napoleon if he’d heard anything from Josh, but self-preservation kicked in and stopped me.

  Scarlett hugged Hugh and said how great it was to see him after all this time.

  People who didn’t know one another were introduced, and Stella insisted on chairs and another table being added to the one we already had—causing complete chaos, because from then on, the waiters could hardly navigate around us. Then Stella suggested it was too hot where we were and maybe we should ask to move. Maury said that if she made any more fuss, he was leaving. We stayed put.

  “So what do you do?” Stella said to Napoleon. He told her he was a psychotherapist.

  “And you, Ed?”

  “I’m actually a sex therapist.”

  “No! Fascinating. I’ve never met a sex therapist. So you help couples who are having difficulties with the—er—physical side of things.”

  “Yes. Mainly gay couples.”

  “OK, but you must know a bit about straight relationships. I mean, if we’re talking about frequency, what would you say is normal?”

  “I’m not sure that there’s any such thing,” Ed said. “If a couple is happy with their sex life, then whatever the frequency, that’s normal for them.”

  “You know,” Stella said, “Maury’s always had a low sex drive. Once, twice a month. Then our youngest was born with red hair, and we both have dark hair. I could see only one reason for it. Rust.” Stella cackled. Poor Maury just rolled his eyes. Everybody else just looked embarrassed.

  Stella drew Ed closer and lowered her voice. “And you know, his penis—when it’s, you know, ahem, erect—it’s completely bent. It’s like a banana.”

  Scarlett and I, who could hear everything, didn’t know where to look.

  “It’s called Peyronies disease,” Ed said, totally deadpan, as you would expect from a sex therapist. “Usually it’s harmless, but he should get it checked out.”

  “Really? You know, I’m such a hypochondriac. So was my mother. She used to swallow M&M’s with water.”

  “So who’s ready to order?” I said, trying to get the subject off Maury’s banana penis.

  Everybody said they needed a few more minutes.

  Just then the waiter appeared with Cokes for Stella and Maury, which they had ordered before we arrived.

  Stella sipped her Coke. “You sure this is Diet?” she said, frowning at the waiter.

  “Absolutely.”

  “It doesn’t taste like Diet. Maury, taste this. Let me taste yours.”

  Maury rolled his eyes. “Would it hurt you to have regular once in your life?”

  “Just swap.”

  They swapped. Stella tasted Maury’s Coke and handed it back. Then she tasted hers again and made me, Scarlett and Grace taste it. Only when everybody had agreed it was Diet Coke did she let the waiter go. By then the glass was half empty.

  Finally we ordered. The service was excellent. Pretty soon chicken soup, chopped liver and boiled fish balls were arriving along with cucumbers, olives and baskets of bread. Conversation-wise, Scarlett and Grace seemed to be really hitting it off with Napoleon and Ed. Hugh and Maury were discussing opera, which I couldn’t help finding surprising. I’d always assumed that Maury had hidden shallows. I ended up with Stella, who told me she was about to undergo “major surgery.”

  “It’s an ingrowing toenail,” Maury butted in.

  “What do you know? I’ve been in agony for months.” She turned back to me. “Of course, it wasn’t easy finding a surgeon. If you call the nurse and he can fit you in, you know to put the phone down immediately.”

  Two hours later we got the bill. Stella put on her reading glasses and spent ten minutes going through it. “This isn’t right,” she kept saying. “We never ordered that. Who had an extra order of latkes?”

  It took twenty minutes, but eventually we got it sorted. It turned out that the restaurant hadn’t made a single mistake, but Stella still refused to leave a tip. Maury left one anyway, along with the rest of us.

  Afterwards, we said our good-byes. Stella promised to invite everybody to dinner but didn’t take a single phone number or e-mail address. After Stella and Maury had gone, Scarlett asked if anybody was up for going to a bar in Soho. Napoleon and Ed were game, but Hugh and I both had extra-early starts the next day and opted to head home. Just before we parted company I found myself turning to Napoleon. In the end I couldn’t resist asking if he’d heard from Josh.

  He shook his head. “No. He seems to have gone quiet. All I know is that he’s decided to stay in Edinburgh for good.”

  “So you don’t know if he’s got a new job or whether he’s seeing anybody?” God, why was I punishing myself like this?

  “I don’t.”

  I nodded. There was nothing else to say.

  Hugh and I started walking back to the car. “That must have felt awkward,” he said. “Napoleon showing up.”

  “It was a bit. But he’s a lovely chap.” I told him about Napoleon breaking the news to me that Josh had done a runner and how kind he had been.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get any time together tonight,” I said.

  Hugh smiled. “What an evening, though. I have to say, I’ve never met anybody like your cousin Stella. She’s dreadful, but at the same time oddly entertaining.”

  I said he was being polite and that entertaining wasn’t the word I’d choose.

  We reached my flat and Hugh turned off the car engine. “Tally, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you since I got back. Could we maybe do this again?”

  “You mean as in go out on a date?”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh, Hugh, I’m just not ready. Plus we had our chance once, and we blew it.”

  “I know, and I look back on it as one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Be honest—haven’t you ever wondered how things might have worked if I hadn’t gone to Australia?”

  “Of course—particularly in the beginning. But time passed. I started dating again and then I me
t Josh.”

  “Look,” he said, “I’m going to be away quite a bit over the next few weeks, so let’s just keep it casual and just meet up from time to time. How does that sound?”

  “OK. I’d like that.”

  He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. I hadn’t been expecting it, and it took a few seconds to get over the shock. Once I had, I found myself kissing him back. That feeling of being dead inside had suddenly lifted.

  “I’ve never gotten over you,” he said as we pulled away.

  “Hugh, please. We agreed on keeping this casual.”

  “That was casual.” He laughed. “Formal is with tongues.”

  I smacked him playfully on the arm. “Night-night. Speak soon.”

  “I’ll text you,” he said.

  Chapter 13

  Scarlett called me first thing to say she and Grace were heading back up north and asked me if I minded if we didn’t do lunch because she’d forgotten she had a gig tonight and wanted to work on her material. I said that was fine, and we spent the next ten minutes gossiping about Stella. I said I didn’t know how Maury put up with her, and she said that Mum said there was another woman.

  “Oh, by the way,” Scarlett said, “I hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable for you having Napoleon and Ed show up like that.”

  I said it had felt weird for a moment or two, but then I’d been fine.

  “The thing is, we had a really great time with them after we left you. And you’ll never guess what. They want to have a baby. Ed is up for being the biological father. And they have the same ideas as us about shared parenting.” She paused. “Look, it’s all theoretical and up in the air at the moment. I mean, we hardly know Ed and Napoleon, but in principle, would it bother you if Napoleon became part of our family? I mean, he is related to Josh. Would that create a bad vibe for you? The last thing I want to do is to make you unhappy.”

  I took a few moments to consider. “Funnily enough, I think I’d be OK with it. Napoleon is such a sweet guy. It must have been awful for him having to break the news to me about Josh, and he was so gentle. I’ll always be grateful to him. No, I don’t have a problem with Napoleon.” I paused. “So what happened with that other couple—Tom and Richie?”