Dark Obsession

Chapter 17: The Eighth Table - Honeymoon Table

Eighth table was not built on Park Avenue balcony, eighth table was built far from Park Avenue, because honeymoon table must be far from home, alone, like second table alone is romantic.

We woke up at 4am, not 5am, not 6am, dark, king bed, suitcases open on floor where we once ate cereal on floor in 2021 walk-up, but now suitcases on penthouse floor, not eating, packing, because honeymoon.

I wore blue sweater, hole in sleeve still, diamond ring small thin band shining in 4am dark, white sweater folded in suitcase, because honeymoon needs both past and future, hole and no hole, blue and white, floor and altar, all together in suitcase.

Damien wore black sweater, not suit, not wedding suit, black sweater for honeymoon, black jeans, dusty hands clean, no dust, but holding small piece of walnut wood in hand, piece from Hamptons garage, saved from seventh table cut, for eighth table, building on honeymoon, because he doesn't sleep, he builds.

On balcony, seven tables sleeping in dark, Park Avenue lights still on yellow, Central Park dark green early spring.

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

Third table, family table, crooked leg, pizza box cold but memory hot.

Fourth table, drawing table, perfect leg, student wedding drawings now, not park floor, wedding park with seven tables.

Fifth table, miniature, small perfect, holding salt and now holding tiny wedding flower from seventh table white cloth.

Sixth table, ring table, perfect leg, secret drawer, velvet inside holding white sweater thread from wedding day, because ring not in drawer, ring on finger all night.

Seventh table, wedding table, huge 8 feet, white cloth still, flowers Central Park flowers small, cake with seven sugar tables on top, crumbs.

Seven tables staying, not coming with us, because eighth table is honeymoon table, eighth must be alone, far, beach, sand, not Park Avenue marble. Seven tables will wait, like brothers waited six years pact.

At airport, 5am, JFK, gate 12, Jaxon, Kai, Luca, Ethan, Mr. Wilson, three little girls from NYU art class, all there at gate, suits gone, hoodies back, gray brown green but clean, crying, holding coffee.

"Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood," Jaxon said, holding two vanilla lattes, heart foam, one for me one for him, for plane, "Eighth table honeymoon, build far, but send photo every hour, because eighth table is first table away from Park Avenue in six years, record, eight tables total now, seven at home one far."

Kai quiet, black hoodie, eyes soft, "Eighth table far, but same wood, walnut, same smell, Hamptons garage."

Luca dangerous nice smile, gray hoodie, "Eighth table should have secret drawer for shells, because honeymoon beach has shells, not rings, ring already on finger, shells new."

Ethan in hoodie again, navy hoodie, suit folded at home in closet, tears, "My sister honeymoon table, blue sweater hole plus diamond plus suitcase, I will not cry today, I will guard seven tables on balcony while you build eighth far, I promise seven tables safe, no pigeon will sit on wedding table white cloth."

Mr. Wilson in doorman uniform, gold pin, holding small broom like he holds lobby, "Park Avenue never had seven tables alone on balcony without owners, but I will watch seven tables like I watch lobby since 1981, I will water flowers on seventh table, I will keep pizza box away from pigeons."

Three little girls hugged my blue sweater hole, "Teacher Elena, bring back beach drawing, draw beach not floor!"

Plane at 6am, small plane, not private, commercial, because honeymoon table is not CEO table, honeymoon is small, not big.

On plane, two coffees, heart foam melting because plane hot, but nice, window showing Park Avenue shrinking, Central Park green shrinking, tables shrinking but staying.

On small island, not big island, small island with one road, one beach, one store, white sand, blue water, not gray, blue real blue, not Park Avenue lights yellow, real water.

Small house, not penthouse, small house with small balcony, one balcony with no tables yet, empty balcony, white floor, waiting for eighth table, empty like my walk-up floor in 2021 empty before first table.

At 10am island time, sun hot, not snow, not cold, hot on skin, beach white hot, water blue cold but nice, wind.

Damien built eighth table on beach, not on balcony first, on sand, because beach table must be tested on sand, sand test.

Walnut piece from suitcase plus driftwood from beach, white driftwood, smooth from water, mixed together, crooked and perfect mixed, because honeymoon is crooked and perfect together, past and future, blue hole and white no hole.

Eighth table was small, very small, two feet by two feet, two chairs only, not eight chairs, because honeymoon table is for two, not eight, small, low, beach table, legs short, twelve inches only, sitting on sand, legs in sand.

But eighth table had secret, small hole in top middle, not drawer, hole for umbrella, small beach umbrella hole, because beach table needs shade, sun hot, table needs umbrella to protect coffee, heart foam melting fast in sun.

"Good morning, little mouse in blue sweater on beach," he said, hammer small, sand on black sweater, black sweater hot but he wears anyway, building eighth table in sand, sweat, "Eighth table, honeymoon table, not for eating on floor, not for kissing on snow, not for family pizza on third, not for future students on fourth perfect, not for forever miniature fifth, not for ring secret drawer sixth, not for wedding white cloth seventh, eighth table is for two coffees on beach, honeymoon coffee, two coffees forever but with sand in shoes, not snow."

I sat on sand, blue sweater hole, diamond shining sun very bright, touching eighth table short legs, sand in shoes already, warm sand.

"What is eighth table for?" I asked, same question as always, what is table for, tradition.

"For us," he said, sitting opposite on sand, small table between us, knees touching under table, two coffees from island cafe, small cups, heart foam melting fast because hot, but still heart, "For you and me, no brothers, no students, no Mr. Wilson, no Park Avenue, no pact, just two, honeymoon table, where we eat on sand not floor, but nice sand, not sad floor like 2021, sand happy, because beach."

We ate on eighth table, beach, sandwiches, not pizza, fish sandwiches, island fish fresh, nice, crumbs on eighth table first crumbs, tradition.

He texted even though opposite on same small table, knees touching, sand between feet, because texting is tradition, three feet away text: "Seven tables on Park Avenue watching from far, eighth table on beach building in sand, you are all tables, you are my favorite beach table - D"

I replied, thumbs sandy: "Eight tables, eight promises, eighth promise is we will always come back to seven tables on Park Avenue, because honeymoon ends but tables stay, beach ends but Park Avenue stays, little mouse on beach with ring and sand"

At 3pm, we carried eighth table from beach sand to small house balcony, not heavy, small, short legs, to balcony overlooking beach, not Park Avenue, but nice, water blue, not lights yellow.

On balcony, eighth table with umbrella, small white umbrella from store, in hole, shade, two coffees in shade now, heart foam not melting fast in shade, nice.

We left tiny note carved in driftwood part of eighth table, small carving, like first note "For little mouse who deserves table - D" from 2021, but now new: "For little mouse who deserves beach table far from floor - D & Mrs. D"

Mrs. D again.

At night, 8pm, on eighth table balcony, two coffees, vanilla latte island version, heart foam, looking at water dark, stars, not Park Avenue lights, stars more.

We called group chat video, seven tables visible on their balcony video, Mr. Wilson holding phone, seven tables in dark Park Avenue background.

Jaxon shouting video: "EIGHT TABLES! SEVEN ON PARK AVENUE SAFE, ONE ON BEACH WITH UMBRELLA! SHORT LEGS! UMBRELLA HOLE! SEND SAND!"

Kai quiet video: "Eight tables, seven witnesses plus one alone far, past and future on beach, blue sweater hole plus sand."

Luca video: "Ninth table should be baby table, but later, eighth is honeymoon, nice alone, bring back shell for drawer."

Ethan video hoodie: "My sister beach table, blue sweater hole plus sand plus diamond, I am guarding seven tables, seven tables safe, white cloth still white, Mr. Wilson watching with me, no pigeons."

I smiled, blue sweater sandy, hole bigger from sand but nice, diamond sandy but shining, eighth table small with umbrella hole shade, sun set, water dark, stars.

And I knew Chapter 18 would be about coming home, because eight tables need to be together, seven on Park Avenue plus one from beach must become eight on Park Avenue balcony, honeymoon ends but table stays, and ninth table maybe soon but not yet.

To be continued...