Mom, I'm Gay

by Rebecca Flannery

Chapter 14

  I was anxious to go to the newest restaurant in town. I had read about it in the newspaper, and Bob and Marshall had mentioned it to me, saying the food was delicious and the atmosphere unique. Marshall had told me some of the food was Caribbean fare. The write-up in the newspaper had warned me about the bizarre colors on the interior, although on the outside it was an ordinary brownstone with a wooden sign hanging over the door. “Our House,” the sign read. But once we walked through the door, we nearly gasped. The floor was painted a bright, almost neon green. The walls were mauve, and had an iridescent glow. The tables and chairs, all painted wood, were busy looking, seemingly all just a bit different from each other. As I took in the room, I realized all of the tables were either yellow or black, each with some type of modern art-looking picture painted on the table top, and the chairs were painted in colors that matched the pictures.

  About half the seats were filled, which surprised me since we were rather early for dinner. Andrea, never at a loss for words, commented, “This is amazing! How did you know about it?”

  As I started to answer her, a tall, slender, caramel-skinned young woman approached us. She was dressed in a long, flowing black and gold print dress, with a rather large head tie that matched. “Good evening! Welcome to Our House. Would you like a table for three, or is someone else joining you?” With no hair showing to distract from her face, her large, dark brown almond shaped eyes attracted all the attention. I found them mesmerizing, and since I didn’t answer, Jonathan answered her, “A table for three.”

  Our table was next to the wall and from its vantage point, we could see every seat in the place. There were about twenty-five tables, but they were well spaced. As I sat down in the chair that was against the wall with Andrea and Jonathan on either side of me, I noticed the tabletop had a thick, glass covering to protect the painting. It wasn’t really modern art, but rather a scene of people dancing by a river, black figures in bright clothes next to a greenish-blue flowing river with a few fish peeking out of it. The hostess handed us our menus, which were large laminated cards, and said, “R.J. will be your waiter tonight, and he’ll tell you about our specials. I hope you enjoy your dinner!” With that, she bowed rather regally, gently picked up the fourth, unused chair along with the place setting, and disappeared down a yellow hallway that a sign that said “RESTROOMS” written over it.

  Jonathan reiterated Andrea’s question. “How’d you find out about this place, Mom? It’s very ….” He didn’t even finish his sentence, when a handsome young man approached. “Good evening! I hope you all brought your appetites, because this is going to be the best meal you’ve ever had!” He was just a little older than Jonathan, well-tanned, with some sun-bleached blonde streaks coming through his light brown hair. He was dressed in a tropical print short-sleeved shirt and khaki slacks, and although I was pretty sure he was R.J., the waiter, nothing about his appearance made it obvious he was a waiter. He just looked like a casually dressed, handsome young man who wanted us to enjoy our evening. He continued, “I’m R.J., your waiter for this evening, and before you look at the menu, let me tell you about tonight’s specials.” He went on to tell us about appetizers and main dishes, all without notes, and with a great deal of detail and enthusiasm. The first special he described was an appetizer of freshly made skillet made cornbread. His description, that it had been made the old-fashioned way with lard, made my mouth water. Then he said tonight they had a special price on the shrimp appetizer on the menu. He also told us about a fried, fresh, whole fish with a cumin rub and peanut sauce. He handed us the menus and said he would be back to answer any questions. He asked if we wanted to know about the drink specials, but since Andrea and Jonathan were underage and I didn’t want one tonight, we declined. R.J. took our beverage orders, again without writing them down, and when he left, Andrea commented on his looks after he walked away. “Pretty hot guy, but I have my doubts. What do you think, Jonzo, gay waiter?”

  She seemed to ask it innocently enough, and Jonathan flashed me a look that I could only be interpreted one way: he had not yet told her. Before I had a chance to open my mouth to say anything, he suavely changed the subject. “Andrea, the hair looks great. You look great… and I can’t believe you got a job!”

  Taking his cue, I commented on how tantalizing the specials had sounded and asked them what they thought looked good on the menu. Andrea dropped the subject as she focused on what to order. The awkward moment passed, but I knew Jonathan was going to have to tell her and the sooner, the better. It wasn’t my problem, though I would help him if I could or if he wanted the help, which he had made clear he did not. I focused on having a wonderful dinner, which it indeed turned out to be. R.J. was a perfect waiter, appearing when we needed something, but not overbearing. His demeanor continued to be friendlier than most waiters, but he was professional at the same time. The restaurant filled up within a half-hour, but we never felt rushed to give up our seats. When our cornbread arrived, it was made to perfection, crispy on the outside and fluffy in the center, with plenty of fresh butter. We were sorry we had only ordered one appetizer as we ate it.

  I love sitting in restaurants ands looking at all the customers; there certainly was a diverse clientele here. Seeing young and old, mixed races, and both opposite and same sex couples and groups made me happy, although I wondered if a few short weeks ago, I probably wouldn’t have noticed or felt that way. Surprisingly, the place wasn’t too noisy, even though it was open concept seating. I could hear Caribbean music in the background, but it didn’t take over the room. As the food was brought to other tables, again my mouth watered. The smells were amazing. Really, this was a wonderful restaurant, I thought as Andrea and Jonathan engaged in a conversation I really couldn’t join about some of their old friends from grammar school.

  When R.J. brought our food, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Each of us had ordered something different from the menu. Jonathan had ordered the fish special, and the size of it seemed large enough for all three of us. It was a whole red snapper with peanut sauce with freshly ground peanuts grated on top. It appeared to be cooked to perfection. Andrea had ordered jerk catfish. It was served with a fresh mango salsa, fried plantains and greens. My dish was something I had never eaten before. I felt like trying something brand new, so I had ordered a goat curry. According to the menu description, it was made with boneless sirloin goat meat in a Caribbean curry over a bed of rice.

  “Enjoy your meal,” R.J. said when he put the dishes in front of us.

  “Mrs. J, I can not believe you ordered goat!” Andrea looked at my plate. “But it looks and smells delicious.”

  “Jonathan, I hope you plan to share that! You, too, Andrea. Please try mine, too.”

  We dug into our dinners, tried each others, and we couldn’t decide which dinner was the best. They were all delicious and well worth the wait, which really wasn’t long. Each dish was very different from the others, and we were enjoying the food so much, we didn’t talk a lot during the meal, but we each commented on how much we liked the painted tabletop. It wasn’t long, though, before we had cleaned our plates.

  With my plate empty, I excused myself to go to the restroom. I went down the yellow hallway I had watched the hostess bring our extra chair. The first room was darkened, but I could see it contained tables and chairs. I had been curious to look at some of the other tabletop paintings because ours was so interesting to study during dinner. I paused at the entrance, deciding whether or not I should turn on the light switch. It was at that moment I heard R.J. back at our table, talking to Jon and Andrea.

  “You two sweethearts finally have a little time alone, without the mother-figure?”

  Jonathan didn’t hesitate, and answered, “Oh, we’re not together.” I would have liked to see how Andrea reacted to that, but her back was to me, and I decided to go ahead into the storage room. Some things are better if a mother doesn’t hear, but I didn’t hav
e much doubt about R.J. now. I thought he was fishing to see if his “gaydar” was working! Putting that thought aside, I found the light switch on the wall. I flicked it on, and immediately, began studying the painted scenes on the five or six tables in this storage room. Each one was a bit different, depicting gaily dressed people dancing, walking, or playing alongside that same blue-green river with colorful fish poking out of the water here and there. Each painting had the exact colors of the walls and floors of the restaurant in and each one portrayed a mood of happiness. The tables had the same artist’s signature on the corner of each, but I couldn’t actually read the name.

  As I was studying the tables, Andrea walked quickly past the door, and went into the women’s restroom. She hadn’t seen me. I turned out the lights and left the storage room with a quick glance back at the table. I saw R.J. and Jonathan talking, and R.J. reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out a pen and small pad, though we had not seen him use one throughout our dinner. He wrote something on the pad, ripped it out and handed it to my son, who folded it and put in his shirt pocket. They both nodded and smiled, and R.J. left.

  I walked into the bathroom, where Andrea was studying her new hair style in the mirror. She asked me if I had gone into the men’s restroom by mistake, since I had excused myself from the table several minutes ago. I explained to her about looking at the tables, but rather than respond to that, I could sense she was rather agitated.

  “What’s the matter, Andrea, did the food not agree with you?”

  “The food was great, Mrs. J. Thanks for the great dinner. After you left, the waiter came over and started talking, and it was the weirdest thing, Mrs. J., I felt completely left out. It was as if he was talking only to Jon, and I might as well have been invisible. I’ve never felt that way before.”

  I really didn’t know how to respond, so I mumbled, “That is odd, Andrea,” and went into the stall. I thought I knew what was going on, after all I had seen part of the exchange, too, but Andrea was confused by the situation and I knew it wasn’t my job to say anything more to her.

  “You know,” I said from inside the stall, “I think I’d like to take a walk on the beach after such a big meal.”

  “That sounds great!” she said enthusiastically. “I haven’t been to the beach here for five years. I always loved it.”