By strange coincidence I keep running into the Intaglios, now they are back from a year in Canada, though we seldom crossed paths in previous years. Herman was in front of me in line at the Snaz Super Store and saw Donatella at the post office last week. I found them both leaving Tenniel’s art shop as I went in looking for a last minute off-beat Christmas card. Drawn in by Daisie Briscoe’s painting of Fauxmont’s Wicket Lane displayed in the window. Framed and ready for purchase, though the price tag had fallen off and isn’t visible, or perhaps Dinah the shop’s Persian cat gave it a swipe?
Herman pointed out a small rack of old fashioned vinyl LPs newly pressed in Germany for $30.00 each, or more. Here at Tenniel’s ‘time machine’ is a selection of Rock albums with the same covers familiar from the sixties and seventies.
There’s a picture of the Beatles crossing Abbey Road! On the distinctive cover of ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ by Pink Floyd a thin white line passes through a triangle coming out on its other side spreading in the colors of the spectrum. When I looked up again Donna had gone.
Only then I notice, right at eye level, a few CDs from Withered Lizard Music including Toxic Blob’s old release, Aphid Fuzz, which I thought was only available on line. Here it is, and the back of the jewel box is covered in furry white acrylic fuzz. All the more surprising as Liberty Trip’s old band has broken up, and as far as I know she has gone out West.
Now, again unexpectedly, we meet this evening at the Emperor Babur Restaurant where I dropped in for their holiday buffet after looking around the Hadron Shopping Center. There are only a few guests and the piped music of the sitar and the sound of the fountain splashing in its alcove evoke the luxury of the emperor’s repose. We sit together and enjoy their excellent lamb Biryani with bottles of Rosy Pelican Beer from Harayana Breweries.
“Are we in synch. or what Fred?”
“Three times in a few days Donatella!”
“Four times! The universe has put us here for a reason.”
“Herman! We must get reacquainted. Were you able to do any of your own work up at Aurora University?”
“Sure, I had students three mornings a week, so most afternoons were mine.”
We have ignored the buffet and ordered a la carte. Our waiter arrives with a lazy-susan and puts it in the middle of the table, loaded with chutneys, fruits and relishes. Grated coconut, next to chopped banana, is slightly overflowing into the tamarind sauce. He distributes covered dishes beside our plates. Now the shiny metal tops come off the covered dishes filling the air as if we are in a scented garden. First, saffron rice, then Clove, mint, garlic, and turmeric, take us into the Emperor Babur’s thousand and one delights. We start spooning steaming portions of spiced rice and lamb on to our plates.
“Fred, he had a nice show at the College Gallery too.”
Yeah, sold more than half.”
“Etchings Herman?”
“Oh yes. A little dry point but, mainly etchings, 24” by 24”. on medium Hahnemühle paper too. Real good German stuff!”
“Did you see Tenniel’s has CDs of Liberty Tripp’s old band on sale?”
“Oh didn’t you know Fred?”
“Know what Dona?”
“Liberty was here last month visiting her Dad. She asked Tenniel to put a few of her recordings out for Christmas.”
“No, I never saw or heard of her. What is she doing now?”
“Herman, that’s your second bottle of Rosy Pellican! Are you trying to get drunk?”
“No honey, this is thirsty food, and I love this beer! Cheers Fred!”
“We missed the neighborhood Fred, and this restaurant too.”
“I think we have been eating here two or three time a week.”
“Dona, I’ve lost count.”
“Any way Fred, to answered your question, and show that I am not inebriated, I can tell you what Liberty told me. She’s living in LA with her boyfriend, not identified, and trying to get into production.”
“He means music production Fred.”
“Well, that is what I took her to mean, but she didn’t say music production. She just said. “production”. Maybe it’s movie production.
I guess I should have asked.”
“No, of course it’s music. That’s her business Herman.”
We have nearly finished our meal. Herman is waving to the waiter.
“You are not going to drink another?”
“No honey, I’ll split it with you!”
“Why all the heavy lifting tonight honey?”
The turbaned waiter comes over to us. Before he attends to Dona and Herman’s contradictions, another waiter slips by and they exchange quiet remarks in Spanish.
“Waiter! No Waiter, he isn’t having any more!”
“Sir? Ma’am? What will it be?” The waiter is smiling with professional good humor.
“Sorry waiter, I would like another Rosy Pelican please.”
The waiter puts his hands together in front of his chest and bows his head. “Right away sir!”
“I don’t know what is going on Fred.”
“Don’t get so excited honey. I put my faith in the good Lord and I am celebrating our happy return home.” Herman is holding up his glass. “To Fauxmont and to our neighbors and friends like Fred.” His free hand lands on my shoulder, but he is looking at Dona.
“Are you sure this isn’t about something else?”
“Like what Donatella, Like what honey?”
“I know what’s weighing on you!”
“Only a woman with out enough beer could say that!”
He puts his glass down grinning at me and starts stroking his chin.
“I’ll over look the sexism. I am talking bout our son.”
“Well, what about him?”
“You two need to talk.”
“Okay, let’s not get into family business in public okay?”
“Fred, those two aren’t talking and I am not going to be piggy in the middle.”
“Dona, honey, stop trying to shame me in front of Fred. Here’s to you buddy!”
He picks up his bottle and drains it, not bothering with his glass. The turbaned Spanish-speaking waiter arrives on time. He puts the latest bottle down in front of Herman and picks up the empty.
Herman gets up from the table. “Excuse me a moment, I have to find the euphemism.”
He walks across the dinning room towards the kitchen and turns behind a copper paneled screen to the right of the kitchen door, which hides a short hallway where the restrooms are.
“Fred, Albrecht is his own man now, and Herman is going to have to accept it even though they disagree on politics.”
“It can’t be easy for you, but Albrecht seems to be doing very well with his career as an activist.”
“I don’t understand him at all Fred.”
“You mean his politics?”
“Yeah, I mean his relationship with Boyd isn’t a problem for us.”
“That’s a good thing for you all.”
A br0ad shouldered round man with a walrus moustache gets up from his chair slowly at the table behind Donna. He checks the pockets of his herringbone tweed jacket and finds his gold wire rim glasses and puts them on. His thin white hair is combed over his bald spot in back. He looks around for a second. Then gives a slight nod towards us before walking slowly with a slight limp on the left towards the pointed arch that leads to the stairs and exit.
“It is. It is, and I wasn’t all that surprised, but I haven’t really got used to it. I just assumed he’d marry a woman I suppose. Well I mean I was looking forward to getting to know his wife. You know, like having another woman in the household would be nice.”
“It is interesting that he’s into such right wing politics.”
“I know, that’s what Herman keeps bringing up to him. He says Albrecht has joined his own enemies, and then it heats up between them.”
“I can see his point.”
Herman strides toward us between the vacant tables, looking sober and steady until he misjudges the corner of the table behind Dona, and bumps it.
The busboy is clearing off the last of the cutlery and glasses used by the departed guest. Herman’s brushing past has pulled the cloth askew and the Asian busboy catches a half glass of water just before it spills. His quick hands straighten the cloth as Herman sits down at our table.
“What point is that Fred?”
“Dona was telling me about your political differences with your son.”
“Well Fred, let me say I do understand his new love of opera. He’s been listening to a lot of Verdi, lots of recordings and DVDs.”
“Yes, Traviata, Aida, and Il Trovatori I think.”
“Oh I know he plays it loud in that big SUV of his.”
“I don’t think Boyd likes it much though Fred.”
Dona picks up Herman’s beer and takes a long swig.
“No, I think Boyd is more into Jimmy Buffet.”
Herman drinks from his glass until its half empty and watches until Dona puts the bottle down.
“Hey kid! get a glass why don’t you?”
“You said we could split it!”
Herman pours the rest of his rosy Pelican into his glass. Dona is smiling at him and reaches for his glass, but he gently picks it up raising it slowly out of her reach.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! This is mine. You had your share!”
“We have both had enough.”
Herman laughs.
“Then what you are doing is excessive my darling!”
“No sweetie, what I am doing is precautionary.”
“No need of caution here. We are flying Rosy Pelican, in his spirit that is, in our favorite restaurant enjoying our dinner with Fred here! Cheers Fred!”
Herman’s hand lands on my shoulder again. He sips from his glass with his free hand and puts his beer down next to me, well out of Dona’s reach. Donna leans forward with her hand on Herman’s arm as if to stop him raising his glass, but his other arm is doing the work now.
“What makes Rosy a male spirit? That’s a girl’s name.
“Let Rosy be what ever he, she, it wants!”
“She is female in me.”
“Naturally Dona.”
“Well Boyd is always quiet around Albrecht.”
Herman is looking down at his empty plate with his hand still on his glass.
“Albrecht is going out of his mind Dona.”
“He is fanatical, but I don’t think he is really crazy.”
“It will take more than Rosy to help him. He must find the good Lord.”
