The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 24

Jonathan escorted Emily to the dining room as Iona relieved him of his vigilance of the kitchen. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but in the concoction of Romanian food, she alone should be the one to prepare it. But tonight would be special, and in honor of Emily’s visit, Iona made dishes that were traditionally Romanian: polenta with cheese and cream, bean soup with smoked ham hock, and skinless sausage. For dessert, she had prepared Romanian donuts -- made from sweet cottage cheese, eggs, flour, semolina, breadcrumbs, and sugar and served with cream and jam. Obviously, their honored guest would not be allowed with anything but a full stomach.

Once the platters of food were placed on the table, everyone found their prescribed place, with the guest of honor seated at the head of the table. Even the dinnerware was a thing of beauty, with plates and matching cups and saucers crafted from Romanian china. Each was hand-painted with twenty-four-carat gold used for the color yellow. No expense was spared for Emily’s visit, and should she want to dine with Jonathan and his wife again, they would assemble the same presentation. It seems that in Romania, honor and respect are both valued and strictly practiced. But with such formal dining, one does not simply eat. There must be some degree of verbal intercourse. Conversation does not have to be deep or philosophical, but there must be some exchange of ideas, events of the day, or perhaps a witty joke. But this was not the Renaissance, and old-fashioned manners were not entirely needed. In fact, there was one issue pressing on Iona’s mind. It was something she knew not to bring up, especially at the dinner table. But in order to pursue the matter, she would have to prompt Emily into a discussion about her profession.

“I don’t know if I asked,” she began. “What was it that got you interested in the funeral business?” Jonathan and Iona sometimes talked about his job – the interesting cases as well as those that left him in an emotional state—but this was a special occasion, and he didn’t believe it was proper for such discussion.

“Iona,” he said. “I don’t think Emily wants to talk about that right now.”

Emily was often quite open about what she did for a living and was willing to talk about it with anyone who would listen.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she replied. “I really don’t mind, as long as we don’t talk about the gross parts.” Iona, ignoring her husband’s words, pounced on the moment and, composing her words, posed the question she believed would bring out the topic she desired.

“Well,” she began. “You must see some strange things, huh? I mean, there are all kinds of ways people die, and according to my husband, a dead body can do some pretty odd things.” She had seen some unusual things, but these events were part of what is normal for the process of death. Yet, Iona’s inquiry brought only one example to mind, and she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up in the company of such gracious people. As she considered Iona’s probing for conversation, she noticed her hands placed over her mouth as her face grew flushed.

“Are you alright?” Emily asked.

Iona could no longer contain herself and broke out into a giggle.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m fine. You were saying?” Assuming that Jonathan had told her a few stories from work, it finally occurred to her which story Iona wanted to talk about, and without thinking, she blurted it out.

“Oh, you mean the boner guy!”

Both women suddenly burst into hysterical laughter as Emily continued.

“Oh, my freaking God,” she said. “This thing was enormous. The pressure from the pump for the embalming fluid blew this thing up like a balloon. I seriously didn’t know how we were going to deal with this monster, but I had to leave the room. I couldn’t just stand there over this guy’s body, laughing. That didn’t seem right, you know?” At Jonathan’s initial telling of the story, Iona was left on the floor in hysterical laughter, but hearing it from Emily’s perspective gave it a new comedic twist. Stories like this always seem to carry a different flavor of humor when told by a woman. For some reason, women like to make fun of anything sexual, and this was certainly no exception.

“So,” Iona began. “How long did it take you to stop laughing?”

With both women in a state of hysteria, it became difficult for either to speak clearly, but pausing momentarily, Emily managed a brief response. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Fifteen or twenty minutes. I had to go into the basement, so the boss wouldn’t hear me.”

By this time, Jonathan had become a bit embarrassed. He wanted the dinner to go perfectly and felt that Iona had ruined the mood of what he felt should be an outgoing yet semiformal event. Noticing his silence, Emily teased him while reminding him of his reaction.

“Oh, c’mon,” she said. “You were laughing too.” Jonathan barely cracked a smile as his face flushed. His self-control was quickly fading, and he suddenly broke into a roar of laughter. “You called him boner guy!” he said. “Just don’t let Frank hear you say that.”

Continuing to comment, Emily put her hands out as though measuring a large fish.

“I swear, it was like this,” she said. They had all had a good laugh at the expense of someone who was now peacefully beneath the grassy earth. But it was time to bring this funerary comedy to an end, and catching his breath, Jonathan interrupted.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s not get carried away.” But it was too late, and the women, as though they had not heard a word, continued laughing. Not wanting to display impatience or frustration, Jonathan left the table and, walking into the living room, calmly stated where he would be waiting while reading the evening paper.

“I’ll be in here when you two decide to calm down, okay?”

Unfolding the newspaper, Jonathan held it up in front of him, using it to shield the grin on his face. The only humor he saw now was how ferocious the women’s laughter was. The idea that laughter can be infectious was certainly at work, but as all things come to an end, so too did their laughter subside. Exhaustion had now taken its place, and getting up from the table, they also made their way into the living room. Iona motioned Emily to the love seat she had previously used while she sat next to Jonathan. Lowering his newspaper, Jonathan looked at his wife and inquired about any further amusements.

“Are you two done?” he asked.

Iona let out a deep sigh and assured Jonathan that their histrionics had indeed come to a close. While still flushed, Emily agreed.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think I’m done.” Their breathing relaxed as they wiped away the last tears of amusement from their eyes. Yet, there was one final event of the evening, and turning to Iona, Jonathan reminded her of the last dish of what had been an unexpectedly humorous dinner. “Didn’t you make desert?” he asked. Jumping from her seat, Iona rushed to the kitchen and brought a covered platter to the table. What she uncovered was nothing short of a culinary masterpiece.

“Anyone for desert?” she said.

The smell was intoxicating, almost forcing Jonathan and Emily to their feet, dragging them back to the dining room table. What she served was a platter of three Romanian Donuts, baked with sweet cottage cheese, eggs, flour, semolina, breadcrumbs, and sugar, and served with cream and jam. One was more than enough for anyone, and as Emily gazed upon these sugary Eastern European treats, she immediately knew she would never be able to consume what was being served.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “I’m not sure I can eat an entire one of those.”

She didn’t want to offend her hosts, but honesty being the best policy, Emily thought it best to be up front with her stomach’s limited space. “Oh, that’s okay,” Iona said. “Almost everyone we have here can’t eat an entire donut. I’ll just put whatever you can’t finish in a plastic container for you.”

Emily was both grateful for her understanding and relieved that she wasn’t offended. She believed that people from that part of the world valued hospitality and could be easily offended by what they might perceive as an unappreciative attitude.

Lifting a fork, Emily sank its tines into the donut. Still quite warm, it smelled of a sweetness she had never experienced, and cutting into its soft doughy texture, she saw the mixture of cream and jam fall from the baked pastry. Touching it to her tongue released a flood of sensation that she was not accustomed to. To say it was better than sex was a vast understatement, as Emily felt slightly light-headed at the taste of such a heavenly confection. “This is fantastic,” she said.

She tried not to speak while eating, but sometimes words carry a life all their own.

“Oh my God,” she continued. “I would love to have the recipe. Is this some kind of family secret?” Iona was pleased at the enjoyment Emily was experiencing and somewhat proud of her culinary skills.

“It’s traditional Romanian,” she replied. “And yes, I can give you a copy of the recipe.”

Emily could barely contain her enthusiasm at the idea that she would be able to make this as well. “Oh, thank you so much,” she said. “Oh my God, this is incredible.”

Looking over at Jonathan, she wondered how he was able to maintain his weight in the presence of such a talented wife.

“Jonathan,” she continued. “I don’t know how you don’t gain weight with all this fantastic food your wife makes.”

Somehow, she managed to finish the desert, and losing her self-control began licking the sugary remains from the plate. Jonathan and Iona looked at each other with muted grins as Emily suddenly caught herself behaving a way she herself would consider rude.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I guess I got a bit carried away.”

Lowering the plate, Jonathan and Iona saw her chin and nose covered with the donuts sweet glaze, but instead of giggling at her expense, Jonathan simply handed her a napkin.

“It’s alright,” he said. “The first time I had this was in a Romanian restaurant, and I did the same thing.” The evening progressed without further embarrassment, and before the hour grew too late, Emily got to her feet.

“Well,” she said. “I guess I better head home. It’s getting a bit late.”

Jonathan and Iona rose from the table and, escorting her to the door, extended an invitation to return. A simple thank you clearly would not suffice, but Emily, feeling more than a bit of tension about what to say after such a wonderful evening, was suddenly short on words.

“Well, thank you for having me,” she said. “And yes, I would love to do this again after I work off the donut.”

Using a bit of humor to break the tension, Emily bid her goodbye and walked down to the street to her car. Turning back toward the house, she noticed Iona watching from behind the door’s beveled glass. Smiling, she waved briefly and getting into her car started the engine and began the drive home. One thing was certain: she would likely never sample food like that again.