Annihilate Me: Holiday Edition Read Online Free PDF Page B

and
Lisa.   “Now, I’ll need to ask each
of you to go and sit in the car.”   She lifted her head.   “I
might have some additional shopping to do, and neither of you can be here while
I do it.   So, you know— go.”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
    When
Blackwell returned to the car twenty minutes later, she handed Joe her bags,
waited for him to open her door, and then she got inside.
    “I
suppose you two are hungry,” she said.
    “I
could use a bite to eat,” I said.
    “That
goes without saying, Jennifer.   And
you, Lisa?   My perfect little
size-zero?   Can you even bare a
nibble, or is that too much right now, which Jennifer should be paying
attention to.”
    “I’m
famished.”
    “You
size-zeros always are.   I’ll never
understand it.”
    “Lunch
would be fun,” she said.   “Where
to?”
    “Jennifer
will remember this.”   She turned to
me.   “New York-Presbyterian?   The day we had our little chat in the
cafeteria?   That young man who made
us burgers and fries in that sweat shop of a hellhole filled with sickness and
woe?   Do you remember him?”
    “Of
course.”   I paused to think of his
name.   “Charlie, right?”
    “His
name is Charles.   No proper chef is ever
called Charlie.   But, yes, he once
went by Charlie.   Now, he’s
Charles.   And that’s him.”
    “You
were going to send him to culinary school.”
    “I
made that happen through Wenn, which is one of the many reasons I love
Wenn.   When I see talent, I’m able
to do something about it.   Oh, don’t
you look at me like that, Jennifer.   Don’t you dare give me those damned doe-eyes.”
    “Sorry.   It was just nice of you.”
    “Whatever.   That young man had talent, and he
deserved a chance.   He recently sent
me a note saying that when he’s not in school, he’s apprenticing at JoJo, that darling
little French restaurant on East Sixty-Fourth Street, and that I should stop by
sometime.   Before I left Cartier, I
called to see if he was cooking today, and he is.   I say we go there for lunch.   I say we try the food and see how
Charles is doing.   Does that work
for you ladies?”
    I
just looked at her and smiled.
    Blackwell
lifted her chin and spoke to the driver.   “JoJo’s,” she said.   “ Tout
suite !”

 
 
    *   *   *

 
 
 
    Two
hours later, when lunch was over, Blackwell asked our server if she might speak
to Charles, who emerged from behind one of the patterned curtains that
separated the tight dining areas.   He wore a soiled white apron, and he was all smiles.   He looked so different from the last
time I saw him.   He looked happy,
which changed everything about him.
    As
Blackwell fell into conversation with him, I heard her ask him about school,
whether he was enjoying it and earning good grades, how he was liking his time
here, what he thought might be next for him once school was behind him, and
then how proud of him she was that he had taken her advice and gotten the hell
out of that hospital.
    “I
couldn’t stand the thought of you rotting there,” she said to him.
    “Thanks
to you, I don’t have to.”
    “With
all of that bacteria flying you, it’s a miracle you made it out alive when you
did.   You could have been felled by
a staph infection, for God’s sake.”
    “You
crack me up, Ms. Blackwell.”
    “Why
do people say such things to me?”
    “Because
you’re funny.”
    “I’m
certainly not funny.   I’m nothing if not serious.”
    “She
is funny,” I said to Charles.   “And
she knows it.   Don’t let her fool
you.”
    “I
don’t even know what that means,” Blackwell said.
    “Those
who love you do.”
    “Oh,
please.”   She looked at the young
man.   “Charles, Charles, Charles—how
I hate to be surrounded by sentimentalists.   It’s just one more suffrage slung my
way.”
    “Christmas
is coming,” I said.   “Get used to
it, Barbara.”
    She
looked at me with narrowed eyes.   “Not another word.”