Matthew turns toward Leila and she toward him, and both try not to giggle. “Do you have an ID or anything?” Matthew whispers.
“No,” she says. “I never even thought of it. I probably could have gotten one. Are they going to ask for it?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” says Matthew. “I don’t usually go out with underage women.”
Leila can’t help herself. She snickers. For one thrilling moment Matthew feels about sixteen. “Look,” he says, the moment past, “if they make any fuss, you’re my daughter. It’s your birthday. They’ll look the other way, I think.”
The waiters are back, moving with the exaggeration of actors playing to the last row in a big house. One places a wine bucket in a stand on the opposite side of the table. The other begins twirling the bottle as soon as the bucket is in place. Matthew raises an eyebrow and glances at Leila, but she’s watching the business happily. He smiles at her pleasure. She catches sight of him, turns slightly, grins and blushes, embarrassed that she should be caught being naïve and avid. Already, he thinks. Even at her age, it’s already embarrassing not to be sophisticated. Then she touches his hand, and his heart leaps. It’s a conspiratorial touch, perhaps her way of asking him to make allowances for her, of saying, “Remember, I’m just a girl.” The cork pops. Matthew turns back to the performance.
Of course they would pop the cork, sneers BW. No subtleties here. Every little luxury, every bit of service, has to be announced, has to be given an exaggerated flourish, has to have its fanfare, so that you don’t miss it, so you know that you are in a luxurious setting, so you know that you’re really getting service, by God.
Matthew wonders whether the waiter saw Leila touch his hand and whether, if he did, he can be convinced that she’s his daughter if the need arises.
The waiter pours a little champagne in Matthew’s glass and waits. Matthew sips. It tastes all right to him. He smiles and nods, extends the glass to Leila, and says, “What do you think?”
She sips and says, “Delicious.” Matthew nods to the waiter, who pours and, mercifully, leaves.
Before Matthew can begin to sweat about what to say to Leila, she leans toward him and says, “So, give me your professional impressions.”
“Well, let’s see,” he says. He surveys the room. Nearby a group is loudly reminiscing about Joseph’s, a restaurant sadly missed, one much better than Café Zurich, closed long ago for reasons Matthew has never known. Boors, says BW. Why is it that boors seek out the most expensive restaurants? The waiters are the best-dressed people in the room. Why can’t people dress themselves decently?
Some couples look very nice, Matthew objects. They’re out for a big evening. It’s kind of touching. Their freshness. Their awkwardness.
Yes, well, that is the effect the place is after. This is supposed to be a taste of the luxe life. It’s more like a stretch limo than a restaurant. These people are supposed to feel that they’re out of their league, says BW. See them whispering to each other, the little couples. “This is the life, eh, sweetie?” No, it’s not, kids. All the people around you are just like you, and all of you are glancing furtively at one another, wondering if any of you is anybody.
“Well,” says Matthew, stalling. He spreads some pâté on a cracker and gives it to Leila.
“Mmm, this is good!” she says.
Oh, for God’s sake! Ritz crackers! says BW, but Matthew’s delighted by Leila’s delight, and he says, answering her question at last, “I think it’s very nice.” For a while they sit there happily drinking their champagne and eating the pâté and amusing themselves by trying to decide whether anyone in the lounge is anybody.
[to be continued]
In Topical Guide 506, Mark Dorset considers Allusion; Literature and Art: Responding to, Engaging with, Interpreting; and Literature: Bowdlerization of, Simplification of, Trivialization of, Infantilization of from this episode.
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