Chapter 4

At 7:30 pm, dinner was served and by this time, almost all the guests had returned to their assigned seats for the dinner service. From the ballroom’s adjoining kitchen, dozens of waitstaff came and went through these wide double swing doors which opened both ways in order to dole out massive quantities of food served atop giant trays held at chest level because serving trolleys cost both money and storage space for the hotel but strained rotator cuffs didn’t cost anything more than human suffering.

At table 49, Cecelia was seated right next to Adrian while the Goodwins sat across from them, double-date style and doomscrolling on their phones. Cecelia turned to Adrian and whispered to him,“So how does this work? Is this like a buffet or what?”

“Uh, no,” Adrian whispered. “This is a seated dinner so all the food options are made in accordance to the returned RSVP. You don’t need to do anything. Just stay seated and eat whatever is put in front of you.”

“But what if I can’t eat it?” Cecelia continued to whisper.

“Don’t be so picky,” Adrian quietly chided.

“No, I mean like, what if I’m allergic?” Cecelia pressed.

Adrian paused for a moment in contemplation before whispering back, “… But you’re twins. How can you be allergic to different things?”

In response, Cecelia simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t eat cranberries.”

As a gesture of frustration, Adrian shook his head and heaved a sigh. Then, he said, “All right, then just ask if the server if anything has cranberries in it and if there are, we’ll trade plates.”

“What if yours has cranberries too?” Cecelia asked.

“Hmm, then I guess you die,” Adrian expressed nonchalantly. “But really, how often does food have cranberries in it?”

The first course was a lobster bisque served via tureen and accompanied with several loaves of garlic bread, which made it the perfect food to serve if your intention was to impress white people. The soup itself was a creamy blend of rich and savory flavors interspersed with occasional bits of lobster while the garlic bread was garlic bread, plain and simple. Even from a distance, the distinctive aroma of lobster bisque was unmistakable and it smelled delicious.

The server for table 49 was a woman named Donna, a middle-aged and heavyset woman with a hardworking and honest disposition. Although the tureen she held in front of her was hot and heavy, she carried, placed, and ladled that soup with a cheery look her face and always without complaint.

“Excuse me,” Cecelia asked when Donna finally got around to filling her bowl with soup. “I’m allergic to cranberries. Does this soup have any cranberries in it?”

“It doesn’t. It’s just regular lobster bisque,” Donna replied.

“Thank you,” Cecelia replied as Donna continued to serve soup until the tureen was empty.

Hunger is a terrible feeling and at this moment, Cecelia was feeling ravenous. As a perpetually broke educator, Cecelia mainly sustained herself on a steady diet of beans and rice, flavored with whatever free condiments she could secure from Taco-Taco, a popular Tex-Mex chain restaurant. When payday came, she would treat herself with an occasional side of chicken which altogether, helped keep her blood protein levels just high enough to continue selling. Yeah. How depressing is that? But that’s the stark reality facing a larger and larger share of hardworking Americans every day.

Even though she tried to restrain herself, it didn’t take long for Cecelia to finish her portion of soup and bread because this was honestly the most delicious thing she had eaten all month. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice or care about the pace in which she devoured her meal and about ten minutes later, Donna returned to remove their spent bowls in preparation for the next course.

The second course was a plate of Caesar salad topped with croutons, cheese, and small strips of bacon. While the rest of the country faced a romaine lettuce shortage, the Braxton Grand Hotel had an abundance of the stuff and they weren’t stingy with it. Traditionally, salads are supposed to be served after the entrée, while entrées referred to the course before the main course and not the main course itself, but Americans can be rather contrarian as seen with their appreciation of Imperial units and their disdain of the Geneva Conventions. Anyway, the salad was not only fresh and tasty but it also featured a nice zest to it, which whet the appetite as it left one desiring more.

When Donna returned to serve their salads, she also brought along a rotary cheese grater, which she used to sprinkle cheese atop each salad until desired level of cheesiness was reached.

“Parmesan?” Donna asked as she held her grater above Cecelia’s salad.

“Yes, please,” Cecelia replied as Donna began rotating a handle and unleashing a flurry of cheese. “And just to make sure, there are no cranberries in this, right?”

“That’s right,” Donna confirmed.

“Good. Then let’s get this party started,” said Cecelia.

“Tell me when,” said Donna as she started working the cheese grater.

“Oh yeah baby; come to mama,” Cecelia expressed with enthusiasm.

Donna smiled as she continued churning that grater over and over until Cecelia finally told her to stop.

“Damn, that is a lot of cheese,” Adrian remarked upon inspection.

“Don’t shame me,” Cecelia said defensively.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get the runs?” Adrian asked.

“I’m allergic to cranberries, not cheese,” Cecelia retorted.

“Dosis sola facit venenum,” said Adrian.

“Do-re-me-fa-sol-la-ti-do,” said Cecelia.

“It’s not gibberish, it’s Latin,” Adrian explained.

“Ohhh gomenasorry Paracelsus-kun; Latin wakarimasen,” Cecelia mockingly replied.

With a look amazement and disbelief, Adrian watched as Cecelia picked up a fork and began munching on her salad without any hesitation.

After a while, the tables were cleared and it was finally time to serve the main course and for Adrian, that course happened to be the prime rib roast. As the name suggests, the prime rib is a cut of beef taken from the prime rib portion of the cow and owing to its location, is extremely tender and flavorful. Seasoned with a simple blend of black pepper, kosher salt, and all the traditional herbes de Provence, the prime rib is then carefully roasted whilst standing in an oven for two hours, until it is cut and then served with a red wine demi-glace, alongside an accompaniment of buttery seasonable vegetables. It is a luxurious and tantalizing meal guaranteed to test the resolve of even the staunchest of vegetarians.

And there shouldn’t have been a problem with this except for what was delivered in front of Cecelia instead.

“Excuse me,” Cecelia said as sweetly as she could to Donna. “Does this dish by chance contain cranberries?”

Donna looked down at Cecelia’s plate of roast chicken slathered in cranberry sauce and her expression instantly morphed into one of mortification.

“I’m sorry, there must have been a mix-up,” Donna quickly apologized as she realized what she had placed in front of Cecelia. “I’ll take it back to the kitchen and get you another without the sauce.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I’m afraid of cross contamination. Can I get the prime rib instead?” Cecelia asked.

“Oof,” Donna expressed uncomfortably. “I’m afraid we’re all out of prime rib. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s fine,” Cecelia said with an understanding wave of the hand. Then, she turned to Adrian and said, “Well, there you have it. Gimme your plate.”

At this point, Adrian had already unraveled his cutlery as was eager to eat but much like Tantalus, this meal was never to be. He looked at Cecelia’s plate, looked back at his plate, and then muttered, “Oh Goddammit.” Then, he put his cutlery down and lifted up his plate with the intention of exchanging it with Cecelia’s, just as he had promised.

“Thank you,” said Cecelia as she picked up her plate of roast chicken and deposited it in front of Adrian before he deposited his plate of prime rib in front of her.

“Again, I’m sorry. Please enjoy your meal,” Donna said before quickly excusing herself.

Thus, with all the meals served, everyone at table 49 began digging in.

“Out of curiosity, what happens if you eat cranberries?” Adrian asked as he begrudgingly began to cut into his meal.

“Are you really trying to back out of this now?” Cecelia asked back.

“No, I’m just curious,” Adrian lied.

“I go into anaphylactic shock,” Cecelia replied.

“Yes, but would you like, die from it?” Adrian pressed.

“Oh my God. Just eat your damn chicken!” Cecelia scolded.

“I ordered the prime rib! Why shouldn’t I get what I ordered?” Adrian complained to no one in particular.

“Give it up son,” Henry said as his wife continued to exchange portions of his plate for portions of hers. “Never eating a full portion of what you want is a small price to pay for a good woman’s company.”

“Exactly. And besides, look at how happy she is. How could you say no?” Gloria added.

“Mmm!” Cecelia happily interjected. “Ish sho gud.”

Adrian sighed in resignation and said, “Well, I’m already all dressed up. I might as well get the full girlfriend experience.”