Party
of One
It's almost three years
to the day that I've been here on the Hill. Whether or not there
is a little New Year's Eve spirit left in me, I can't be sure.
All I know is that I found myself down at the foot of it (the
Hill) waiting for a restaurant called Angel's to open up. Food
has ruled a good part of my life, and for years now the troublesome
ritual has been under control. The first sign of trouble is my
obsession to have a particular type of food, Fuel to this might
be that I'm all dressed up. Then there's indecision about which
restaurant to go to, and whom to go with. I'm a party of one most
of the time. I like it that why, if I didn't then maybe I wouldn't
have been a party of one for so long. I've arrived early, which
has been my handicap over the years, and as usual, I'm waiting
for this restaurant to open its doors. Lucky for me, my car is
parked in front, so I'm not an obvious wait. I look across the
street where Fain's Rugs is having their January sale. ''I'll
just take a little peek in, to kill time,'' The clerks look up
at me when I enter; it was close enough to five thirty-- closing
time--to leave an expression of "Oh shit" on their faces. I took
them out of their misery by letting them know that I was waiting
for Angel's to open up and I was aware that they closed soon.
One odd-sized runner caught my eye, and I asked the price. "Forty-five
hundred," the clerk told me with a new expression on her face.
"Umm..........." Lucky for me my food addiction was in first place,
and there wasn't too muck more time to kill, or I'd have given
serious thought to buying that rug. I have only recently addressed
my spending addiction. I saw some women on t.v. that I identified
with who said, "I thought the bills just wouldn't come in.'' I
just had a hard time waiting. So you can see, being early all
the time gave me trouble. Most of my buying was done while waiting
for someone to arrive or for some place to open up. The dreariness
of late afternoon turned me off, and I returned to my car to wait
out what was now starting to feel not so good anymore. Die if
I do, die if I don't. Finally the door to Angel's restaurant opened,
and a couple went in. The black leather dress I was wearing didn't
allow my legs to spread like my sweats had been doing for the
month of December 1989, the coldest recorded December since 1917
the weather man said. My exit from the car was a bit like slow
motion. The maitre'de was a friend of mine and of Bill W. ''Hi,''
he said. I've been waiting a half hour for this place to open.
I know, I saw you out there. Before boring him or myself with
any more explanation, I chose this table close to the door where
I could see the people coming in. I had a good view of the bar,
but no one could see me. The waitress gave me the menu, and glancing
at it, it came to me that there is nothing here I like except
for this Delmonico steak with mashed red potatoes and garlic.
I had my chance to leave but, die if do, die if didn't so.............
I ordered the steak that was meant for a party of two. Now here
is where I got my money's worth, plus my faith renewed, while
waiting for them to cook my Delmonico. From my seat, I had a full
view of the kitchen which is open so patrons can feel like they
are part of it, I guess. It's part of the new ambiance in most
five-star restaurants today. This was a small kitchen, but efficient.
Five heads like in a puppet show went up and down in a background
of pots and pans. Heavy smoke was coming out of this square pit,
and all the puppets looked concerned but, I, the observer felt
safe. The smoke was their problem, not mine. I could have cared
less how that steak came out. By now, I was not the least bit
hungry. Watching the smoke had pointed my head in the direction
of the bar, where a blond lady whom I knew, was sitting alone
smoking a cigarette, She was having a martini in a tall glass,
the kind that used to trigger my alcohol addiction like crazy.
I've known this lady for all of the twenty-one years that I've
been sober. I can say that I've never seen her look or act in
any other way but ladylike. Her face looked swollen to me, yet
I couldn't judge her like I may have in the past. That day, looking
for someone to dine with, I experienced some moments of loneliness.
Sitting there observing, I started to realize how grateful I was.
Grateful not to be judgmental like in the past, the most recent
past. There was another couple at the bar that I identified with.
When the man was asked by the bartender what he wanted to drink,
he answered, "Nothing for me, my New Year's Resolution is to drink
only once a week, and if I drink tonight, I can't have one this
weekend." My mile-high plate arrived and was placed in front of
me. I ate that Delmonico which was more meat than I've eaten in
years. I waited all night for a reaction that never came. I've
started the nineties eating more healthy food, I bought two cribs,
not one, for the new arrival. I am a little less codependant,
and I have a new friend: his name is Tom. He too was once somebody's
son, somebody's husband, somebody's father. He's free like me
now, so we get on just fine.
Copyright; Ruth Mahoney 3-Jan-90
