Page 49 of Repentance and Absolution
I tried to make conversation.
“Where did you get these oranges?” I said, taking a slice and biting into its juicy center. “We didn’t notice any at the store, else we might have got some for ourselves.”
Irene glanced at Clarence. “Well, we know a few people in town who get particular items shipped from afar, and they were kind enough to sell us some. Aren’t they nice to have this time of year? They’re so tropical and make me think of palm trees and beaches.” She sighed.
“You ever been down south?” Oscar asked, taking an orange wedge and popping it into his mouth. I tried not to watch as a tiny bit of juice squirted o’er his bottom lip.
“Excuse me,” he said, wiping it with the back of his hand. “Oh, shoot, I prob’ly should have used a napkin,” he said, looking about for one. “I’m so sorry.”
His face had gone pink, and it seemed he thought he’d committed some horrible offense of decency.
But Irene simply laughed and offered him another wedge. “Don’t be silly. This isn’t a royal visit, Oscar.”
He chuckled and took the wedge. “These oranges taste like sunshine.”
“Don’t they?” Irene agreed. “I’ve used some of the peel in the stew, to give it a lift.”
“That stew smells better n’ better as the time goes on,” Oscar murmured, putting his stocking-covered heel up on the chair as he leaned back, then reconsidering and putting his foot back on the floor and sitting up straight.
Irene narrowed her eyes. “Oscar, sit how you like. This isn’t a palace. I like to see my guests relax and enjoy themselves. At least, I s’pose I do.” She made a funny face and laughed. “It’s been so long since we had any that I can hardly remember.”
Clarence shook his head at her, then turned to us. “You’ve made my wife very happy by coming o’er.” He sucked on his pipe and puffed out more smoke. “And me.”
When the sun had dipped and the light inside was fading, Irene lit some oil lamps and set alight some candles on the table.
“Clarence, will you help me serve?”
“Of course.”
“Jimmy and Oscar, you sit yourselves down at the table. The food’s coming out.”
“I can help,” I said as I got up from my chair.
“We’ll help you bring—” Oscar spoke at the same time as me.
“No, no. You two are our guests. Sit yourselves down at the table and let us host. Please,” Irene said.
We glanced at each other, shrugged, and found spots across from each other at the wood table that had been decorated and laid out so nice.
“These plates are so fine, Jimmy,” Oscar said, examining the china. T’was real china with a nice sheen on it—white, with green vines swirling on the edges. I didn’t think I’d ever seen dishes so pretty.
“They are nice,” I admitted. “I know Irene keeps saying we ain’t in a palace, but compared to our place, it sure seems like one.”
Oscar grinned. “I know it.”
Clarence brought out a plate piled high with biscuits and a dish of fresh butter, then a basket filled with fresh sliced bread. Irene carried the big pot of stew and placed it in the middle of the table on a piece of thick cloth to protect the wood.
“I told her I’d carry it, but she wanted to bring it,” Clarence said, rolling his eyes.
“You think you’re stronger than me?” Irene said with a grin. “Who’s the one that does all the laundry and the cleaning every week?”
“All right, all right,” Clarence said. “You’re as strong as a horse, Irene. That’s why I married you, in fact. T’weren’t your glamorous looks a t’all.”
Irene laughed and returned to the kitchen, coming back with a ladle as Clarence sat down and placed his napkin in his lap.
“Pass your bowl, Jimmy,” Irene said, holding out her hand.
I did so, then placed my napkin in my lap and watched Oscar do the same.
