There was a restaurant he liked and dined at nearly five times a week. It was called The WaterLoo, and it was owned by a man Charley knew from college. They both studied business and philosophy. Both were successful in their selected trade.
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Charley’s friend was named Daniel McFoly, and he was considered a nice man. He was tall, a liar's 6’4, and loved to wear expensive leather hats. He took pride in his mustache. Groomed himself in his office often, “always be ready,” he’d like to say. At 54 years of age, he had read many books, dated women from countries near and far, traveled, learned, forgot much, and was still seeking, with the desperate fervor of a young man, for a place to call his. It was easy, he felt but told no one, to settle the body, relax it with fine wine and a lovely home, but the soul, he felt, was not too easy to rest.
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Daniel was glad to see his friend’s reservation the morning before his arrival, and even happier to see Charley’s once dinner time came around.
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Chaley sat at the same booth he always sat in. Looked longingly out the window at the passers-by. He studied the falling leaves and wondered, with a sentiment of dread, if the trees felt their loss. In the autumn time, he thought, ordering a scotch, of how the once pronounced, full trees, looked fragile and deflated in their wintery form. One could, he thought, break all their reaching little fingers, like icicles, and feel no remorse, or suffer a guilty conscience, because no cares for things which do not make their pain known. A stone has no face, or orifice to cry, so we break them, remove them from our path, and use them as we please.
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When he began eating, he started with an appetizer of potato leek soup, then, as a main course, he had a bacon wrapped, 8oz filet mignon, accompanied with mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus, and a small salad. He particularly liked the thinly sliced pickled red onions that garnished the salad. The bright pink flesh stood out in the bowl.
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Filled, but not satisfied, Charley finished his dinner with a hankering for something sweet. He also deeply desired another drink. It was much darker now. He could hardly see past his reflection in the window, and the trees were simple shadows, distinct only in passing headlights. People still walked about, he could see. They were all together, in groups or pairs, and Charley was in his booth, waiting to order another scotch, perhaps a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
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He thought they looked as young folks should look on a Friday evening: Joyful. He was happy for them; found himself lost in his youth; wherethrough he lived absent of his body, inside a memory long rewritten and warped. The people, inside this memory, had all lost their faces to time, and were now small flashes of action, distinct only in feeling and tone. To him though, that was enough. He could still hear the music, feel the crowd pressing against him. He still remembered the feelings.
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As was accustomed with the winding down of the dinner rush, Daniel rested his work cap in his office above the dining room floor, and joined his good friend for a drink. He could see Charley was deep in thought, and so approached as if to surprise. Daniel grabbed his drink, ensuring not to spill, and crept with an exaggerated extension of each of his legs. Quietly, he moved, hiding briefly behind a nearby pillar, then, upon tipy-toe, rushed into the opposite seat of Charley.
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“Dear lord!” Charley shouted, grabbing his heart, “Daniel!” he slapped the table, scaring the glassware, making them jump, “ you do that again, I’ll get you! God dammit”.
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Daniel loved it. He got what he wanted, and he laughed handsomely, grabbing his belly as he did. With a breath, and the wipe of a single tear, Daniel waved down his favorite waiter, a woman named Sarah. She had started only weeks before, and had fallen quickly into favor. The kitchen staff thought she was funny, and that she was too smart to be working where she did. The other servers thought she was going somewhere with her life, and that, unlike them, could juggle it all, even school.
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Daniel thought she had the perfect look for a waitress, the perfect voice. He loved listening to her take orders. Her cadence, he thought, the softness of her questions. He wanted to bottle her.
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Sarah noticed his wave, and gave him a nod. She was on her way.
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Charley, still steaming from his scare, looked at his friend angrily. His face was scrunched, and his bristly brows touched. “You know,” he said, taking a reliving breath and fixing the askew silverware, “one day you’ll kill me. You’ll do that again, and I’ll die of a heart attack, right here in this booth, and no one will want to dine here. Who wants to eat where a man died? It's terrible press”.
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Daniel smiled and Charley was reminded of the devil. “Oh,” Daniel said, making himself comfortable in his seat, ‘you’re no fun, you know that?”
“That’s fine,” Charley said, rolling his eyes, “if that is what you call fun, I want no part of it.”
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Sarah arrived, and performed wonderfully. Daniel watched as she left to get their drinks. He forgot about Charley for a moment, and was lost to desire. “I have something to tell you,” he said, interrupting Charley mid sentence. He looked at him, saw his friend for his physical traits, and felt disgust in the small of his gut. When had Charley gotten this way? he thought. Am I falling apart?
Daniel cleared his throat, then let out a nervous,“I have decided to leave America”.
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Just in time, Sarah delivered their refreshments. The men were quiet for a moment, satisfying their thirst. Daniel thanked Sarah, and asked her to come back again soon.
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“What do you mean?” Charley said, “Are you going to Europe again?
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Daniel finished his drink messily then wiped his face with his sleeve. He rolled his sleeves and removed his hat. He looked at the fleeting guests in his dining room. Their meals were finished. They had cleaned their table by organizing the used dishware. A coat hung over a well groomed woman’s arm. She pushed in her chair.
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“I don’t know where I am going,” Daniel said, “not yet at least”. He studied his empty glass. He lifted it, “I just know that I have to get out of here,” then poured the remaining drops into his mouth.
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“Is something wrong?” Chaley whispered.
“Nothings wrong- I just feel like it's time for a change.”
Charley drew close, “Is it the law?”
Life left Danile’s narrow nose like a little laugh, and he shook his head in disbelief, “Oh god, there are always issues with the law, that is nothing new. The politics alone in this country could cast out every capable man if the freedom here was not so pure. In America, especially for people like you and me, Charley, the law is nothing to fear, you know this. I would have to shoot someone in the street for anything to really happen, and even then! I bet my lawyer could spin a web to get me out of it.”
Charley wavered in his seat, seemingly running over the words of his friend in his head. “Well, if you are not able to tell me why, can you in the least tell me where, or for how long you will be gone?”
“For half a year, maybe longer, and I am thinking of traveling to Russia. It is beautiful, I hear, and much calmer than this place.”
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and then Add to home screen.