Aban's Accension

Chapter 14: The Dinner

She arrives first. When she sees the empty hall and notices the lack of voices, she hesitates at the bottom of the stairs.

El calls her to come into the living room. She drags her feet on the old, wood floors and enters. The rooms are filled with hazy sunlight. The two chairs have been moved so that they’re against the wall and underneath the narrow window. The dining room table is under the main front window. The lower pane has been raised, and damp sheets are tacked over the opening with bowls of ice standing in front of them. Three dinner-plate-sized platters of food and sliced bread line up slantwise on a wooden board on the table.

The front door bangs open, and a voice rings out, “Hello El!”

El turns to Aban, “In the latter days, your grandmother would send me to greet the guests. But this is your home now. I am sure my friends would like to meet you.” He ends with an encouraging smile.

She slouches out into the hall.

“Hi,” the stranger says. “Who’re you?”

“Aban. I own this place.”

“Oh! You’re Aban! It’s great to meet you,” the stranger exclaims. “Lucky you, to be right here, living in this gorgeous home your grandmother made, seeing El every day. El’s the kind of guy everyone wants for a friend but don’t know it till they meet him.”

“Really?”

“Definitely.” The stranger steps forward as the door opens behind her. Another two walk in, a man and a woman. They greet each other like old friends, are introduced to Aban, and begin chatting as they walk down the hall and disappear into the living room. The front door opens again. This time a group bustle in, shouting and cracking up at each other. They giggle hello to Aban as they pass her by. She stands there as more people open and close the front door, stream past her on their way to say “Hi!” to El, to each other, and to dig into the fresh food. She frowns after them: there’re so many coming and not enough food. They begin to spill into the hall, into the kitchen, and out the back door. Maybe they eat less here in Toronto at dinner than in the country. Suddenly, she misses her mother’s cooking. She shoves that thought down automatically.

It’s so hot. She fans her face with her hand. It’s useless, like moving stalled water-laden clouds with her pinky.

She takes a step towards the living room door when she hears the knob click, feels the outside air moisten her back, and a bigger group jostles in. They are all in a hurry, in such a hurry that they almost trip over each other, but the yakking crowd in the hall slows them down. This group doesn’t see her; she creeps back towards the wall at the bottom of the stairs, hiding in the shadows.

“I can’t wait to see what El’s cooked up,” says one.

“Cook? How can you think of hot food in heat like this?”

“Hey, even cold food has to be cooked first. And what diff would it make anyway?”

“You gotta say Hi to El first.”

“Sure, sure. But the food is probably half gone by now.”

“You’re such a pessimist. You know El always makes enough for everyone.”

“Yeah, but you say Hi to him and next thing you know, an hour’s gone. I’m going for the food first this time.” The group’s laughter fades as they wade through the crowd into the living room.

For the next half hour, she watches groups and couples and singles come in, knocking and immediately opening the door, expecting they are welcome to enter. All are eager to see El. She doesn’t get it. He’s so hard to understand, how can they be so eager? Now if it was Deepak Chopra, she'd get that. She’d be the first in line to meet her hero. She’d wait all day if she had to! And she’d take all her books to get him to sign them. Mom never let her come to Toronto when he was doing that renewal weekend and he was gonna teach the secrets of healing too. It was the biggest disappointment of her life. And she’d forgotten until now.