CHAPTER ELEVEN
“This place is beautiful, Charlie,” Jenay said as the maître d sat them in a quiet booth overlooking the Boston harbor. “I’m surprised you didn’t need a reservation,” she added.
“The prices keep the masses away,” he said with a grin. He hadn’t been this upbeat in years. Literally years! Coming here today, to see Jenay, was the best thing he could have done.
“So how do you feel, college graduate?” he asked her.
“Satisfied,” she responded. “I feel accomplished, you know? Like I set my mind to do something, and I actually got it done. I thank God for blessing me to get to this place. And I know I still have an uphill battle to get my career where I want it to be. But at least I’m on the right track now.”
“Amen,” Charles said.
Their pre-dinner wine was served, their orders were taken, and Jenay and Charles relaxed to the music. None of the chosen songs were of no great moment for either one of them, especially Charles, until Billy Joel singing Piano Man started up on the surround sound. Charles smiled. And then he nodded his head. “I love that song!” he said. “Isn’t that a great song?”
Jenay nodded. She couldn’t tell him if it was great or not. She might have heard it twice in her entire life. “It’s nice,” she said.
“Nice?” Charles asked as if she had offended him. “It’s great! Don’t you know greatness when you hear it? Listen to that harmonica lead. Listen to those lyrics! Are you kidding me? They don’t write songs like that anymore.”
Then, as if to prove his point, he actually started singing along with those Billy Joel lyrics he loved so much. Jenay was amazed. Charlie Sinatra singing? Although he had the right last name for such a task, it didn’t fit his personality in the least! But he did it. He started serenading her with song:
“And the piano sounds like a carnival,
and the microphone smells like a beer,
and they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar,
and say man, what are you doing here?
Sing us a song, you’re the piano man.
Sing us a song tonight.
We’re all in the mood for a melody.
And you’ve got us feeling just right.”
The lyricist, Billy Joel, actually said you’ve got us feeling alright, but Jenay let it slide. The song was ending, and that was the point for her. She smiled at Charles. “You’re in an awfully good mood,” she said.
“Good? Are you kidding? I’m in a great mood,” he said, and they laughed.
“But I feel you,” she said. “It’s been a great day. Everything’s great today.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “I’m . . .” Then his look turned serious. “I’m very proud of you, Jenay, is the truth of it. You didn’t get any breaks in this life, but instead of complaining and sitting down, you got up and did something about it. You proved them wrong. That takes balls, young lady.”
She laughed.
“Now you’re a graduate of the prestigious Boston Hospitality Institute,” Charles went on, “with a degree in hotel management.” He lifted his glass of wine. She lifted hers too. “Congrats.”
They toasted and took a sip. Jenay realized she was in an awfully good mood herself, even though that small ache within her knew it wasn’t going to last. He’d be gone tomorrow, if he didn’t leave tonight, and that would be that. Maybe she’d see him again when he was passing through on his way to business elsewhere. Maybe she wouldn’t. It was an ache that was beginning to hurt.
“I thank-you for attending my graduation,” she said. “And for clapping when they called my name.” She added with a smile: “Even though they said no clapping, please.”
“Wasn’t going to happen,” Charles said. “This was your big day. You deserve to enjoy every moment of it.”
“Thank-you, Charlie. And I have. Every moment.”
They exchanged a glance as memories of their morning flooded back. Charlie, too, had an ache. It was as if he was having the time of his life today, but he knew that the feeling, the sights and sounds, and especially the woman that caused him to feel this way to begin with, would be gone tomorrow. It was for the best, he knew that. He wasn’t interested in any hot and heavy romance with anybody right now. Not because of the here and now, but because of the end game. It never ended well. It would always start out fantastic. His affair with his ex-wife, the mother of his four grown sons, was fantastic in the beginning. Then boy did it go south. It went so south that Mississippi would have ruled it too southern for them. Then even the good memories became distorted and bad. No, it was for the best. Enjoy the day, and then get the hell out of here.