Open for Interpretation

Chicago. It was a week after the new year. Fred sat at a table in Carpino’s, an old Italian restaurant on the near north side. He decided to treat himself for making it through the first semester of college. All his friends were away from school, back in their hometowns. Fred did not feel alone, nor lonely, sitting by himself at a small table, cloaked by a red and white checkered mat. The hostess had managed to place him in the middle of the room. He wondered if people thought about his being alone and in the middle. 

 It was Friday night, and older couples had filled the room around him. Breaking bread, pouring bottle after bottle of vino. “Hello sir, how’re you this evening?” A stocky, Italian man said. “Oh I’m fine, just fine thank you,” Fred said.

Under the table his hands began shaking. He’d never been to a restaurant without company. “Can I get you started with something to drink, sir?” He was only 18, not a single facial hair to be seen. “I’ll take a Peroni, please,” Fred said assuredly. “That’s a wonderful choice, sir. May I ask that you show me your ID?” The waiter said. “Most definitely, I sometimes can’t believe it myself.” He was sure that line would work. “Here you are,” Fred handed over his ID. Fake, from Ohio. The waiter struggled to see it clearly, squinting hard to confirm the young man’s authenticity. He handed it back to Fred.

 “I’ll be right back, sir.” The waiter scurried off to the next table, and Fred found himself with a new confidence. He rolled up the sleeves on his green cashmere sweater his father had bought him for Christmas. Fred knew very little about clothes, but he knew what he didn’t like. He had no jewelry or watches, just a few items he deemed essential. He noticed a lot of guys his age wore big watches and other jewelry, but he didn’t like the bulkiness of it all. He didn’t like the way it felt on his skin.

“Your Peroni, sir,” the waiter placed the tall shimmering glass in front of Fred. The beer nearly poured down off the rim of the glass. “Thank you very much,” Fred said. “Any food tonight, sir?” The waiter asked. “I haven’t decided just yet, I’ll let you know, is that OK?” The sentence commanding yet passive, Fred thought. “Oh, and what was your name again?” Fred asked. “Antonio, sir,” the waiter said. “Nice to know you, Antonio,” Fred said with a smile. “Nice meeting you, sir,” Antonio walked away, leaving Fred alone with a beer and table of one. 

He took a sip of the beer and began thinking of the night. Endless opportunities were possible in the city on a Friday night. His foot started tapping to the sound of Sinatra. He quickly stopped as he noticed it. He didn’t want to look childlike in a room full of adults. As Fred continued sipping on the Peroni, he noticed an older woman walk through the front door. Placed in the middle of the room, her gaze shot towards Fred by default. She had shiny black hair, cut slightly above her shoulders. A hazel trench coat was unbuttoned while she exchanged laughs with the hostess. Under the coat was a satin black button up shirt, tucked into a pair of straight legged denim. Her eyes directed towards Fred once again, as his were elsewhere.

“Sit anywhere you’d like, Kendall,” the hostess said. “I think the bar will suffice, thank you,” she said. As Fred was handed his second beer, his eyes met hers. She walked slowly and certain across the room, then sat at the bar. Fred wondered why she’d looked at him. He wondered if she was here on a date. She was much older than Fred. Her back faced him, only a few feet away. “Miss Kendall!” The bartender nearly shouted out. Fred looked toward the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of the conversation. “So I’m back again,” Kendall said. They were the only words Fred heard, besides getting her name. 

His second Peroni went down faster than the last. Antonio came back. “Can I get you another, sir?” he said. “Yes, but could I do a gin and tonic this time?” Fred said. “Of course, sir.” Antonio headed behind the bar and began talking with the bartender. Fred never had a gin and tonic, but he thought it’d make him appear older. The bartender, Kendall and Antonio looked over at Fred, which he noticed in the corner of his eye. “Who is that boy?” Kendall said. “We’ve never seen him before Miss Kendall,” the bartender said. She looked back at Fred, who stared forward. “Seems young. What’s he drinking?” Kendall said. “Peroni, Miss. Vito, is that gin and tonic ready?” Antonio said. Before Vito could say yes, Kendall told Antonio to bring Fred another Peroni, on her tab. 

“Your gin and tonic, sir,” Antonio placed the glass on the table, then followed it with a Peroni. “Oh, Antonio, I just wanted the gin and tonic,” Fred said. “Of course, sir, the young lady at the bar has requested I give this to you. It’s on her tab,” Antonio said. Fred felt blood rush to his face. “Well, thank you Antonio,” he said. “Of course, sir, thank Miss Kendall,” Antonio said. Fred sat in shock. He looked towards the bar, where Kendall’s back still faced him. Within minutes he’d finished the Peroni. His foot tapped again, this time to Dean Martin. As he sipped the gin and tonic, his tapping leg crossed the other, and he began thinking of ways to thank Kendall. He was terrified, both of her age and her beauty. She was unlike any girl he’d known at school. Fred had never seen such level of grace. 

As he contemplated, Kendall sneaked a look at him. The Peroni she’d got him now long finished. “Another martini Vito, please,” Kendall said. She knew he was outside any realm of familiarity. For although he was attractive, surely an older woman had not pursued him before. She held a conviction. 

A seat next to Kendall opened, and this did not go unnoticed by Fred. He called to Antonio and asked that he be moved to the bar. Antonio obliged, then picked up Fred’s empty drinks from the table. Fred didn’t know if it were nerves, or the gin, that made his legs that of a newborn giraffe, but he carried on towards the bar. Her shoulders were broad, and he liked how the light struck the satin of her shirt. As he approached, he cleared his throat in an unobtrusive way. “Hi,” Fred said, pulling the chair out. Kendall’s lips pursed and her head swiveled slowly at Fred. “Vito, two Peroni’s, please.”