A Strange State of Affairs Ch. 21

            “Thank you all so much for coming.”

            Glasses and silverware were laid out on the long wooden table along with bottles of high-class wine.  He guests sat on tasseled cushions in earthen shades, chatting avidly across the table to one another.

            Pona sat at one end of the long table; Vert sat opposite, complying with Korish tradition.  The woman sat near Pona, and the men were seated near Vert.

            Fye and Riyel sat nearest to the would-be groom.  They were eagerly discussing the hotel’s food service and what was on the menu for tonight.

            On the other end, Pona and Sherry were giggling riotously at something whispered. 

            At last, when all the guests had arrived and all had been seated, Pona and Vert clinked their spoons against their glasses and thanked their guests for coming.

            “We thank you all for coming to our little engagement party,” Pona announced.  She was radiant; her skin had a delicate glow to it, and her deep grey silk gown emphasized her lithe stature.  It was one-shouldered and floor-length, with a strap tied in a delicate bow on her left shoulder.  Her hair was loose and flowed down her back.  “We haven’t set the wedding date yet, but it’ll be sometime in spring.”  She smiled at Vert and flushed a deep shade of rose.  “We hope you’ll all be able to attend.  And without further adieu…”

            A flurry of servers rushed in, hoisting platters of pungent food on their shoulders.  Fye’s stomach groaned with hunger, as did El’s �" she was hiding beneath the table between Fye and a sturdy table leg.  He’d set a small plate before her as a plate.

            Servers were floating about with large caldrons of thick, creamy soup upon their shoulders.  The soup was richly spiced; robust herbs and delicate seasonings gave it a savory tang.  It was beautifully arranged �" a bright sprig of fresh cilantro lay smartly on the surface, contrasting sharply with the soup’s creamy whiteness.

            Fye sifted through his portion and was pleased to see chunky tubers inside.  He ladled a bit of the soup into a teacup and sneaked it to Elevine, who sniffed it appreciatively.  She took a bite out of a root and gnawed with gusto; it had been cooked slowly and was fully done but still retained a hearty crunch.

            When the soup was finished, the servers returned.  This time, they hoisted broad steel trays heaped with food on their arms.  The trays were steaming and laden with all types of things: plump roasted ducks with crisped exteriors, mountains of leafy sautéed greens cooked with a light sauce, platters of roasted mushrooms with smooth white flesh, juicy sea scallops and fresh clams, thin cuts of meat cooked with loads of crisp vegetables, and other dishes native to the area.  The guests ate their fill, chattering all the while.  Bottles of wine were hurriedly emptied and the dinner took on a rosy afterglow.

            El listed to the chatter lazily.  She was sprawled out on the ground, chewing slowly on a small chunk of leftover scallop.

            As dessert was brought in �" a rich cake covered with fresh cream �" a woman in a brilliant golden robe burst in.  She carried a cordless phone in one hand.  “Call for Mr. Fye Celis,” she announced.

            Fye, who had been just about to down yet another glass of wine, immediately shook off his tipsiness and stood.

            Elevine peeked out from under the table, a nagging worry in her heart.

            Riyel, too, saw Fye sneak away from the chaotic table to take the call.  He saw El creeping out and they shared a worried glance.  The cat gave him a brief nod and leapt after the artist.  Riyel hurriedly excused himself from the table and staggered dizzily after El.

            They found the artist sitting in a cubicle behind the receptionist’s counter.  His hair was mussed, and his face was ashen.  “I’ll be there soon,” they heard him, “Doctor, is she still conscious at the moment?  …oh.  I-I’ll call back later then.  Thank you.”  He stood and saw Riyel standing before him, El perched on his shoulders.

            “Something happen?” Riyel asked quietly.

            Fye nodded, shaken.  He sank into a chair behind the receptionist’s desk.  He sighed, ran a hand through his hair.  “I…my m…m-mother just had a massive heart attack…the doctors say she’s stabilized at the moment, but…”  he turned his sad brown eyes upon Riyel.  “I have to go.  Right now.”

            The artist suddenly became brisk and efficient.  “I’m taking one suitcase only.  Ri, will you pack my stuff for me and take it back when you guys leave?”

            Riyel said he would.

            Fye sped back to his room and began tossing things about.  He hurriedly changed into a white, collared shirt, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.  He donned a pair of dark jeans and tossed a few other articles of clothing into a suitcase, then sped off to his car. 

            El ran with him and jumped into the shotgun seat once he opened the door.

            Riyel ran after Fye waving a pair of black canvas shoes over his head.  “Wear these,” he said to the artist, “Your mother always liked for you to be well-dressed.”

            The artist slipped them one thankfully.  “Say bye to everyone for me.”

            “Wha-?” Riyel stuttered, “B-b-but…what about Pona?  Fye, what about Sherry?”

Fye opened his mouth to reply, then saw the look on Riyel’s face.  He saw the concern that burned there not for Fye himself but rather for…Sherry…

            He smiled at his friend.  “I think you know best how to take advantage of this situation,” he said with a grin, “Later, Ri.”  He rolled up the window and drove away.

            Riyel stood dumbly in the middle of the road.  What had just happened?  How did Fye know?

            He patted his numb, cold face.  Perhaps this turn of events was for the best.