Page 58 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
“Three more to go,” he says. “Do the soup next.”
“I’m supposed to eat it with a fork?” I ask. “I thought this was a proper tasting.”
He takes a spoon out of his white coat and sets it on the table. Thesoup, casserole, and tiramisu are delicious. Dom finishes my beer, watching me, as I taste all three.
“Fine,” I say. “Approved, I guess.”
“Excellent,” he says. “I’ll put the orders in.”
On the way out, he grabs another Peroni for me and a takeout box. “I made a plate for Zoe, too,” he says. “Tell her she’s welcome.”
I’ve never bellied up to a bar with a couple of kids before, but that’s what Grace said to do when she texted twenty minutes ago. A pretty young woman named Zoe who has about fifty tattoos gave Ian and Bella high fives and shook my hand when we arrived.
“This is…this is okay?” I asked her as the kids climbed onto their stools.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “They’re honorary employees. If the cops roll up, though, you guys know what to do, right?”
“Punch ’em in the guts and run for the hills,” said Bella, monotone.
“Exactly.”
Another thing I’ve never done is sit at a bar that has a movie showing on all its TVs, but that’s happening now, too.
Ian and I were having a casual disagreement about the validity of submitting a portrait of Buddy the Elf for his art contest. I encouraged him to aim higher. “Think about the art we just saw. Elevated, right?”
“But it’s the best picture I’ve ever drawn, Henry.”
He set his work on the bar top as evidence, and it was hard to arguewith a damn-near perfect rendering of Will Ferrell as Buddy, complete with the dumb smile.
“This conversation is even more boring than the museum,” said Bella, sticking a straw in her Sprite. “Zoe, can we watchElf?”
“Oh yeah,” said Ian. “For inspiration.”
Zoe looked at the TV directly above us, which was playing SportsCenter. She grabbed a remote and toggled to Amazon Prime. “I shall make it so.”
A few minutes into the movie, people around us craned their necks to see. Then a construction worker at the other end of the bar asked, “Hey, can we getElfon this TV, too?” He was with a co-worker—their hard hats on hooks at their knees. They laughed at the scene where Will Ferrell starts his trek through the Enchanted Forest. “Bye, Buddy,” one of them said, talking along with Mr. Narwhal. The other joined in. “Hope you find your dad.”
Their joy was contagious.
“Can our TV sync with those TVs?” a lady asked. She was with a group of women exchanging white elephant gifts.
“Give the people what they want,” Zoe muttered, picking up the remote again. Then a waiter appeared from the dining side. “Yo, Z, the eaters wantElf,too.”
NowElfis on everywhere, and Bella, Ian, and I are sharing a plate of crabby fries. Bella is using a little box of crayons to color Edgar Allan Poe on a kids’ menu, and Ian is putting the finishing touches on Buddy’s elf hat. The entire bar chuckles together when Will Ferrell walks into James Caan’s office. A nearby table sings along with his singing telegram to his dad, then both construction workers say, “I like to whisper, too” in unison, which practically brings the house down.
“See, Henry,” says Ian. “Everybody lovesElf.”
I eat a fry, which is delicious. Then, through the window, I see Grace across the street. She’s in front of the Italian place talking to a dark-haired, very handsome guy in a chef’s coat. She laughs at something he says and gives him one of her Grace shoves. Her face is aglow from the sunset, and I’m struck once again by how pretty she is. Iwonder if that’s a symptom of grief: constantly forgetting how lovely someone is. The handsome chef laughs now, too. I don’t know who he is but it’s clear that she does.
“Oh look,” says Bella. “Mommy’s talking to Dom.”
“Is he, like, a friend of hers?” I ask.
Bella puts a fry in her mouth. “Yeah. He’s in love with her, though. Always has been.”
And now here’s another thing I haven’t felt in a long time. My chest tightens, a twinge of melancholy follows. Is this jealousy? I shake it off, though, because Grace and I are friends. Then I look just beyond Grace and this guy, Dom, and see something amazing.
Back at MICA, I used to put mental frames around things I’d see out in the world that looked like art. I do that now to this image of Grace and the chef. The Italian Embassy’s front window behind them reflects the setting sun and holiday lights from all over the neighborhood, and it’s breathtaking.
