Dark Obsession

Chapter 18: The Eighth Table - Coming Home

Eighth table was not staying on beach forever, eighth table was coming home, because honeymoon table must come home to Park Avenue, because seven tables waiting.

We woke up at 3am island time, dark, small house balcony, eighth table small with white umbrella still in hole, shade even at night, no sun but umbrella still up, cute, two coffees cold on eighth table, heart foam gone from last night, but cups still there, memory cups.

I wore blue sweater again, hole bigger now from sand, diamond sandy but shining in 3am dark, white sweater still folded in suitcase but now sandy too, white plus sand, because white sweater protected eighth table on beach, wrapping.

Damien wore black sweater sandy, black jeans sandy, dusty hands sandy now, not dusty, sandy, holding eighth table short legs, twelve inches legs, carrying eighth table from small balcony to beach one last time at 4am dark, because eighth table must touch water before leaving, tradition, water goodbye.

At 4am on beach, dark, water black, not blue, stars many, more than Park Avenue lights, stars real, waves small.

He placed eighth table in edge of water, small waves touching short legs, walnut and driftwood mixed, crooked and perfect mixed, now wet, sea salt on wood, water on wood.

"Good morning, little mouse in blue sweater with sand in shoes," he said, voice rough sleepy, placing vanilla latte island last coffee, two cups small on eighth table in water, feet in water, black sweater wet feet, "Eighth table says goodbye to beach, but beach stays in wood forever, salt in wood forever, so when eighth table is on Park Avenue, balcony will smell beach, salt smell, memory."

"What is eighth table for now?" I asked, tradition question, same every table, what is table for.

"For remembering far while near," he said, carrying eighth table out of water, wet legs dripping, dripping sand, to small house, wrapping eighth table in white sweater, white sweater finally useful, not wearing, wrapping table, protection, because white sweater is future protection, "Eighth table for remembering honeymoon when we are home with seven tables on Park Avenue, so eight tables on balcony will have one beach table, one umbrella hole, one salt, seven old plus one far, eight together."

At 6am island time, 7am New York time, same time zone change, small plane again, same as coming, commercial small, not private, because honeymoon coming home is small too, not big.

Eighth table in cargo, wrapped in white sweater, white plus sand plus salt, small, short legs, umbrella folded next to it, small white umbrella.

On plane, two coffees, heart foam, plane coffee better than island coffee, vanilla latte like Park Avenue version, because New York coffee is better, tradition, Park Avenue coffee best.

At JFK, 11am New York time, sun cold, not hot like island, cold spring, Park Avenue cold not hot, island hot gone, but salt still in wood.

Jaxon, Kai, Luca, Ethan, Mr. Wilson, three little girls from NYU art class, all at arrival gate, same hoodies from Chapter 17 morning, gray brown green navy, holding sign big sign wood sign not paper, wood from Hamptons garage, carved letters: "WELCOME HOME MRS. BLACKWOOD & EIGHTH TABLE BEACH TABLE"

"Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood with sand in shoes still!" Jaxon shouting, holding two vanilla lattes Park Avenue version, heart foam perfect not melting because New York cold, "Eighth table! Where is eighth table? Cargo? White sweater wrapping? Nice, white sweater finally useful, protecting beach table, white sweater plus sand plus salt, nice! Umbrella where?"

Kai quiet, black hoodie, touching white sweater wrapping when we opened cargo, smelling, "Eighth table salt smell, beach in Park Avenue, nice, walnut plus driftwood plus salt, three woods now."

Luca dangerous nice smile, gray hoodie, holding small shell in hand, "Ninth table should be welcome home table, bigger than eighth, because home needs bigger after far, but eighth is good, short legs, umbrella hole, bring shell for sixth table drawer?"

Ethan in hoodie again, navy hoodie, tears but not crying, suit still folded at home, "My sister home, blue sweater hole plus sand plus diamond plus salt, plus eighth table wet legs dripping, I guarded seven tables on balcony, seven tables safe, white cloth on seventh still white, Mr. Wilson watered flowers on seventh, no pigeons sat on seven tables, I promise, seven tables safe."

Mr. Wilson in doorman uniform, gold pin shining, holding small vacuum like lobby vacuum, "Park Avenue never had seven tables alone on balcony without owners for two days, but I watched seven tables like I watch lobby since 1981, I watered flowers, I kept pizza boxes away, balcony clean, eight tables soon, vacuum ready for sand from your shoes Mrs. Blackwood, welcome home."

Three little girls hugged my blue sweater hole sandy, "Teacher Elena, beach drawing where? Show beach table!"

Penthouse at noon, elevator, 78th floor, balcony door, seven tables waiting exactly as left two days ago, but different, because seven tables lonely, waiting.

Second table, kiss table, crooked leg, charcoal drawing of park with snow, faded but still.

Third table, family table, crooked leg, pizza box gone, cleaned by Mr. Wilson, but memory hot.

Fourth table, drawing table, perfect leg, student wedding drawings plus new beach drawings from little girls while we were far, beach with eight tables drawn.

Fifth table, miniature, small perfect, holding salt and wedding flower from seventh table white cloth, plus now tiny shell from Luca hand added.

Sixth table, ring table, perfect leg, secret drawer, velvet inside holding white sweater thread from wedding day plus sand grain now, Ethan put sand grain in drawer while guarding.

Seventh table, wedding table, huge 8 feet, white cloth still white, flowers fresh because Mr. Wilson watered, cake with seven sugar tables crumbs, eaten by brothers while we far but crumbs left.

Seven tables plus empty space, eighth space, waiting for beach table.

Damien unwrapped eighth table from white sweater, white sweater sandy now, white plus sand plus salt, nice, placed eighth table on balcony in sun, short legs twelve inches, umbrella hole, white umbrella from island small, in hole, shade on Park Avenue balcony, beach shade on Park Avenue, strange but nice, Park Avenue with beach umbrella.

Eighth table small between seventh huge wedding table and second crooked kiss table, small but important, beach smell, salt smell, sand falling from legs onto balcony marble floor, Mr. Wilson vacuuming sand immediately with small vacuum, but sand staying in wood cracks, salt staying.

"Good afternoon, little mouse in blue sweater home," he said, placing vanilla latte Park Avenue heart foam on eighth table small, two cups small, fitting small table, plus pizza, Park Avenue pizza hot, not fish sandwiches, pizza on beach table, beach table eating New York pizza, far and near mixing, "Eight tables, seven on Park Avenue plus one beach but now eight on Park Avenue, all home, eight promises home, eight tables together first time."

Eight tables now: second crooked kiss, third crooked family, fourth perfect future, fifth small miniature forever, sixth perfect ring secret drawer, seventh huge wedding white cloth, eighth small beach umbrella hole short legs salt smell.

Eight chairs around seventh huge still, but eighth small has two beach chairs low, we brought from island, low chairs.

We ate pizza on eighth table, home, crumbs, beach table with New York crumbs, new tradition.

He texted even though opposite on same small eighth table, knees touching, balcony home, Park Avenue lights yellow early: "Seven tables waited two days lonely, eighth table came home salty from beach, you are all tables home, you are my favorite home beach table, you are home - D"

I replied, thumbs not sandy now but memory sandy: "Eight tables, eight promises, eighth promise we came back, we always come back to seven plus one, eight tables on balcony, little mouse home with sand in sweater hole and diamond salt"

At 3pm, little girls came, touching eighth table, smelling salt, "Teacher Elena, beach table smells beach, draw beach table now on fourth table?"

I drew on fourth table perfect drawing table, eighth table small with umbrella, beach and Park Avenue together in drawing, sand and snow together, hole and diamond together, all together.

At 6pm, we ate on eighth table again, cereal, not pizza, everyday cereal, because eighth table now home table too.

At 9pm, group chat "Little Mouse Eight Tables Squad" renamed by Ethan to "Little Mouse Eight Tables Home Squad" with message:

Jaxon: "EIGHT TABLES HOME! SEVEN OLD PLUS ONE BEACH! UMBRELLA ON PARK AVENUE! MR. WILSON VACUUMED SAND BUT SAND STAYS IN WOOD FOREVER! RECORD! EIGHT TABLES FIRST TIME ON PARK AVENUE BALCONY!"

Kai: "Eight tables, seven memories plus one far memory now home, salt in drawer, beach in Park Avenue."

Luca: "Ninth table should be for everyday, daily table, but later, eighth is enough for today, beach home is enough, baby table later."

Ethan: "My sister home, eight tables, my guard duty done, seven tables safe plus eighth now home, I can sleep, no pigeons."

Mr. Wilson message in chat first time ever, from his old phone: "This is Mr. Wilson, doorman, from Mr. Wilson phone, eight tables on balcony counted, I counted, eight, I vacuumed sand, balcony clean, welcome home Mrs. Blackwood, doorman duty done, eight tables safe."

I smiled, blue sweater hole, diamond, sand still in shoes even after vacuum, eighth table small with umbrella shade at night, no sun but umbrella still up, cute, eight tables on balcony, Park Avenue lights yellow, Central Park dark green, home, full balcony almost full.

And I knew Chapter 19 would be about ninth table, everyday table, because eight tables special occasions, ninth must be everyday, morning coffee table, daily table, not special, daily, because love is daily not just wedding and honeymoon, daily table needed, Tuesday table.

To be continued...