Читать книгу Celia's Shadow - Sandy Levy Kirschenbaum - Страница 12

Walter and Ramona were seated at a table when Celia arrived a few minutes before six o’clock. Ramona’s brother was handsome. He had the same almond-shaped dark eyes and long lashes that Ramona had. They were unquestionably brother and sister. He was much taller than his sister, and his physique more athletic, but the resemblance, including the large chin, was uncanny. He wore khaki slacks and a white collared button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and exposed tanned, muscular forearms covered with shiny blond hairs. His smile was fabulous and produced a twinkle in his eyes, which were surrounded by fine character lines.

“Sorry I’m a little late. My computer froze, and I had to restart to make sure everything was working before I left.” Celia pulled out the empty chair conveniently left between Ramona and Walter. Walter stood and helped Celia as he slid her chair in toward the table. The appropriate introductions were made as they sat together in the crowded bar. Ramona, I’m surprised you never mentioned your handsome brother before. “How you guys doing?”

Neither sibling responded. Walter and Ramona blankly stared at Celia but didn’t answer her question. No one spoke. Except for the noises from other patrons, there was silence at their table. Celia expected one of them would say something. But no words were exchanged. Celia was uncomfortable with the quiet. After a few more speechless moments, she glared at Ramona. Are you going to respond? Are you going to say anything to help break the ice? Neither sibling spoke.

“When did you get to Boston, Walter?” Celia took the burden of conversation upon herself.

“Flew in last night around nine o’clock and popped over to Ramona’s place. Had a bite to eat and then hit the hay. Boop!” Walter made a fist as he punched his hand into the air.

Celia acknowledged his response with a grin. He simply answered the question and offered no further conversation. Ramona picked up her napkin, rolled it into a long tube, unrolled it and rolled it again. She presented nothing.

Did they have an argument or something on the way over? Within minutes of their get-together, Celia was sorry she had accepted Ramona’s invitation. “Where in New York do you live?”

“I live outside of New York City, in Bergen County, New Jersey. Boop.” He again popped his fist in the air and remained silent after his answer.

“Do you like living in New Jersey?” Wonder if this is how a talk show host feels when they have a boring guest?

“Yup, a lot. Boop!” He punched the air and stared at Celia, as he waited for the next question.

She watched his hand move up and down. “Do you have a long commute to get to the city?” Why am I asking this question? Am I really the only one conversing here? Can they not hear me? The lack of conversation, along with the absence of their server, annoyed her. She glanced around the room for someone to take their order. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Nope. I hop on the train and in less than half an hour, I’m there. Boop!” He punched his fist high into the air as he finished speaking.

She inquisitively turned to Ramona and then back to Walter. “I’m jealous. It seems so easy. I wish it took me a half an hour to get to work. Don’t you Ramona?” I guess I’m on my own here, right, Ramona? “I hate taking the T into Boston. First, I drive to the station, sit on the subway for what seems forever, and then I walk down here. Unless it’s raining or snowing; if that’s the case, then I switch trains two or three times, which is slower than walking, but at least I keep dry. You’re lucky you can get to your office that quickly.” That filled about forty-five seconds of conversation. Nice long sentences. Lots of information. What do you think, Boop Boy?

“I do have to walk a little way to my office, but it isn’t far. Maybe a block or two. Boop.” He again punched the air above his head.

Good job. Speaking without it being a direct response to a question. He freely offered up the fact that his commute included a walk to his office. I didn’t even ask about your travel by foot. Although Walter had become somewhat engaged in discussion with Celia, the conversation was nonetheless tedious and labored. How long can we talk about our commutes? Ramona, chime in any time and take part in this conversation, or at least change the topic.

Ramona glanced around the bar and paid no attention to Walter or Celia.

Celia was anxious for an iced coffee and distrusted the waitress would ever make it to their table. She was uneasy talking to Walter. If she wasn’t asking him questions, no one was talking. The silence was annoying.

“Are you Ramona’s older or younger brother?”

“Why don’t you try to guess that one. Boop!” He again punched his fist in the air.

“Oh no!” She waved her hand back and forth and shook her head in the same direction. “That’s a lose-lose topic, and quite frankly, at this exact moment I’m very sorry that I asked the question.” She studied his chin and then Ramona’s. Are they the same size? Ramona’s chin seems larger, but maybe it’s because the rest of her face is smaller. That chin-accentuating haircut doesn’t help. Celia was bored and distracted.

“I’ll let you off the hook. I’m Ramona’s older brother. I’m the oldest at thirty-eight. We have another brother, Stan, who’s thirty-four and then there’s our little Ramona baby at twenty-nine. Boop!” He reached over to his sister and rubbed the top of her head for a few seconds and, as expected, punched his fist into the air.

The waitress arrived and took their order. Celia ordered an iced coffee while Ramona and Walter each ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. After they ordered, Walter took it upon himself to repeat the order back to the waitress.

“So. That’s an iced coffee here.” He nodded his head toward Celia. “And two Long Island Ice Teas here and here.” He pointed to Ramona and then to himself. “Boop! Boop! Boop!” The first boop was synchronized with an air punch toward Celia, his second toward Ramona, and the last one at himself.

Celia watched his fist move in the air. What the fuck is this booping thing?

Celia’s attention diverted from the painfully mundane conversation to the boops and air-punching fist. She counted the boops as Walter spoke to see whether he punched his fist in the air after every boop. For the most part, there was a punch for every boop. By eight o’clock, she had lost count of the boops but had concluded there were more boops than punches. The boop count became unbalanced when he emphatically finished one sentence with a “boopity, boop, boop, boop.”

She fidgeted in her chair. Celia wanted a good reason to escape and was aware that finishing the mystery novel on her coffee table would not do, at least if that was the reason she verbalized to the siblings. She ordered a second drink and waited another twenty minutes. “I better get going. It’s a long commute home and I need to get up early. Thank you for the invitation. It’s nice to meet you, Walter.” She lied.