A Clean, Buttery Finish

Charlotte took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. Johnny’s place. Johnny was a professional cuddler who’d burned out from too much spooning and neck nuzzling and was taking a break, seeing only the occasional client. This left him more time to fish, his first love, and he caught many a sturgeon, which he cut into steaks for his closest friends, friends like Charlotte, who loved its clean, mild flavor, well-cooked with fresh herbs. It was delicious grilled, roasted, or seared.

Charlotte appreciated all the free sturgeon because she hadn’t worked in thirty years, having only her trust fund to live on, just sixteen thousand dollars a month, most of which went to the lease on a private jet. Each month, when the sturgeon ran out, she was forced to accept dinner invitations just to get a hot meal.

“Your sturgeon,” Johnny said as he handed her the bag. Then he sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked.

“Just above me there’s a kid, and he recently saw Love Actually for the first time. Now he’s learning to play drums, just like the kid in the movie, only the movie doesn’t show the kid’s neighbors, how miserable they are hearing this kid practicing the fundamentals of drumming. People root for the kid ‘cause his mom’s dead, and he loves a girl at school, and he’s cute, and the girl’s cute, but the whole time, the neighbors are tormented by his single strokes, his double strokes, and his paradiddles, only you never see that—their misery. But I’m living it.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“He’s at school, dummy. Just wait until three-thirty.”

“Does he put adorable signs on his door while he practices?—‘Ringo rules’ and ‘Rhythm is my life.’”

“Predictably, yes.”

“And you know of this how?”

“I went up there. Took them some sturgeon—also called the dinosaur fish—figured I’d try to casually bring up the tortuous racket of the kid’s drums. But I couldn’t do it. Turns out he’s just as adorable as the movie boy – crooked smile, shaggy mop of hair. Hate to wreck his fun.”

“Aww. What about noise-canceling headphones? I used them when the people upstairs were installing their endless pool. They really work.”

“Could I borrow them? I’ll throw a little extra sturgeon your way. It’s rich in amino acids.”

“Sorry—I gave them to Tony, the guy who sleeps in front of our building. He was getting awoken by screams. They really helped. I also gave him my maternity pants. He likes the stretchy waist.”

“You were pregnant?”

“Once upon a time. It didn’t work out.”

“Probably dodged a bullet. You might’ve gotten a little drummer.”

“Well, I’ll take my sturgeon and go.”

Johnny made a serious face. “Listen, Lottie, what say we have a romance? I pitch woo, then you accede to my proposal. We move to my place in Turlock. Population 76,000. There’s a drive-in, a bowling alley, water skiing on Turlock Lake.”

“Is there a mall?”

“A massive one.”

“I don’t like malls.”

“So we don’t go to the mall. We’re married. We do as we please. What say?”

“It’s a not unattractive proposal. I’ll think on it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

“Say—you wouldn’t be after me for the convenience of jet travel?”

“What do I care for jet travel? It’s you I like.”

“Noted.”

Charlotte, bag of sturgeon in hand, rose and said her goodbye.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

On the stairs, she passed a shaggy-haired kid, hurrying, taking the steps two at a time. He looked excited to get home.

#

After dropping off the sturgeon, Charlotte headed to Glorious Departures Retirement Home, where she volunteered reading to oldsters. She enjoyed spending time with them, and experimenting on herself with their medications. Today was Nora (omeprazole, metformin, hydrocodone).

Nora, patting Charlotte’s hand: “Tell me, deary, have you ever killed?” This kind of question was very Nora.

“Only once.”

“Was it a beau?” Nora grinned.

“I worked the roller coaster at the fairgrounds. Summer job. High school. One day, I didn’t lock a kid into his seat right. His friend was cute so I was focused on him. The kid flew out, went kersplat on the midway.”

“It happens.” Nora looked wistful. “Jimmy Hannigan.”

“They gave the kid’s heart to a famous ball player. He went on to be MVP. Happyish ending.”

Nora looked serious. “Charlotte, I get lonely. You got anyone for me?”

“I know a professional cuddler, semi-retired. I could ask him to come over.”

“How’s his half-spoon?”

“He’s got five stars on Yelp.” Charlotte felt the hydrocodone start to kick in.

“Could be a good stopgap, for until I meet the right someone.”

In a hydrocodone-induced bliss, Charlotte took Nora’s hand. “I went to Bali once, walked from village to village, ate nasi goreng, watched kids play the gamelan. Anytime I was thirsty, someone would pop a straw in a coconut for me. I never felt so alive.”

“I can’t travel anymore because of my knees. Get me my pill, would you?”

“You’re all out.”

“Again?”

#

Johnny invited Charlotte over for dinner as a first step in courting her. He made steamed sturgeon—vinegar poached, in a thyme-butter sauce. It had a delicate, meaty texture, reminiscent of poultry.

Charlotte had never been to his place at night. The view from the fifteenth floor was like in the movies.

“I got the DVD of Love Actually. I thought I’d watch it as a kind of therapy, to see the kid in a context, to help me detest him less. You wanna join?”

“Yeah, alright,” Charlotte said, mouth full of sturgeon.

After sturgeon, Johnny set the DVD humming in the player, and they repaired to the divan with slices of clafouti.

The movie has multiple story lines. In the pertinent one, the drummer boy’s mother has recently died and he lives with his stepfather (presumably his father is dead or absent—the film doesn’t specify). He wishes to learn drums so he can perform in a pageant as part of the combo accompanying the singer-girl he adores. As opposed to speaking directly to her. Stepfather fully supports his convoluted plan.

The learning of the drums is presented in montage. Johnny leaned forward to absorb the content. The editing makes believable what most drum teachers would question: the boy masters the fundamentals in just two weeks. He plays the pageant, gets a kiss from the girl. She implausibly addresses him by name. The End.

The lights came up, metaphorically.

“You see the problem?” Johnny said.

“Tell me.”

Johnny, pointing at the TV: “This kid had an end game. He learned drums, got his kiss. He’ll probably never play again. My kid has no pageant. There’s no end date. I might be hearing tom-toms until he goes to college. I can’t make it. Have you given some thought to Turlock?”

“I haven’t. But I’ll think on it now.” Charlotte began. She considered Johnny’s looks (sufficient), his abilities (he could cuddle, cook), his dowry (the home in Turlock). With her private jet, she could visit the oldsters and access their medication anytime she wanted. She could think of no Cons.

“How about this? Continue to woo me. If no defects become apparent, then I’ll accede. There are no surprises under your clothing, are there?”

“The boys in the locker room never said a thing. How long must I woo?”

“For a season.”

“Shake on it.”

They did.

#

The months passed in the typical fashion. Charlotte read to oldsters. Johnny fished, cut steaks. He cuddled with Nora on Tuesdays. She was made happier.

“Don’t let that one slip away,” she told Charlotte. “Those hands.”

“They all have hands, Nora.”

“Not like that.” Nora looked wistful. “Not since Tony Turino pawed at my unmentionables.”

Charlotte thought it best to take a jet trip to Bali, see if what she really wanted was to walk from village to village for the rest of her life, as opposed to marrying Johnny and skiing on Lake Turlock. Or doing a third thing.

Bali was beautiful—the coconut water flowed freely through straws as before, and the whining of the street dogs brought back memories. But Charlotte realized that she’d made a montage of those first Bali memories, which she’d played over and over, and she’d grown to idealize it. To live it was different—hotter, more effortful, with significant patches of boredom. She thought it should be possible to make a new montage, of Turlock.

On the three-month anniversary of their handshake, Johnny requested a decision, and as Charlotte had detected no major defects, she acceded to his proposal, per their agreement.

Johnny: “You accede?”

“I accede.”

“Zounds!”

They tossed their belongings into grocery bags and hitched Johnny’s fishing boat to the car for the long drive to Turlock. As Johnny was loading up his Igloos of frozen sturgeon, the drummer boy and his family approached.

“You’re moving?” the father said, mouth dropping open.

“To Turlock.”

He looked at his wife, then at Johnny again. “We’re sure gonna miss having you below us. You’re so quiet. The people before you drove us bananas with their noise.”

#

“That was ironic,” Charlotte said as they pulled away.

Johnny: “How so?”

“Because you moved away to escape their noise.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not. I moved away to be with you in Turlock, the jewel of the Stanislaus Valley. Anyway, I made up the kid with the drums. To add urgency.”

“Wow. You must really like me to do something so gaslighty.”

“Love. It’s love.”

“We’ll see.”