The Eyes Of Men: A Collection Of Short Stories

The Suitcase

Phil drove as usual, and as usual, Marjorie directed his driving from the passenger seat with all the zeal of a mid-level micro-manager. "Slow down Phil, pass that car Phil, why are you stopping Phil, I told you to turn back there Phil, now we're lost, I swear you've got the brain of a turtle..."

"No... you told me to turn right at the light." Phil calmly protested.

"I know what I told you Phil... You just need to cleanout your ears and listen. Oh here it is, turn right up here into the parking lot."

They parked in front of the restaurant, and Marjorie adjusted her lipstick in the visor mirror.

"I just don't understand what all the secrecy is about." She said as she wiped a red smudge from her teeth with her finger. "This isn't how family is supposed to behave. I mean really."

Phil could read through Marjorie's false objections, and he could tell that she was actually beaming with anticipation.

They encountered Jennifer and Eric waiting in the guest entry beside a fountain with multiple coy fish swimming inside its pond. It really was an elegant place. Phil imagined that this was the type of restaurant that Eric frequented with his daughter, and that was ok with him. He was glad she found a man that could give her a touch of the high-life.

Marjorie went ahead of him to embrace Jenny. "This place is too much, I mean, my God. Phil we'll have to split a meal, otherwise I don't think we could afford it."

"Dinner's on me tonight Mrs. Dimmle." Eric said this with a smile and charm that was typical of a hot-shot pharmaceutical rep. such as himself.

"Oh well then... Hold onto to this one dear-he's a keeper. The nicest restaurant your father ever took me to was the Lone Star steak house."

Phil felt a subtle sting of embarrassment, and although he was used to it, Jenny's embarrassment was obviously written across her face.

"Sheller, party of four, your table is ready" the hostess said. Sheller being Eric's last name; they had already become a secondary extension of the superior Sheller family.

Phil would sometimes imagine the least amount of things that he would need to live on, like if everything except a select few items was stripped away and he was forced to choose which items to keep. It was an exercise in simplicity. He would need his chair to sit at while he ate his breakfast, his bed and at least one shirt, one pair of trousers, socks and shoes. But what else did he really need? Perhaps a radio to listen to baseball games and some jazz if the spirit moved him. And of course his carving knife, that which he could pass the time by whittling away at wood until it formed some shape or character.

Whittling had become a hobby that fascinated him with over the years. It took patients and persistence to eventually shape the wooden piece, transforming it into a manifestation of his imagination. Marjorie would always nag him to put away his silly carvings, but what did she have that brought such joy into her life-nothing.

It didn't take long after they were seated for Marjorie to begin her badgering.

"So... tell me-what is this big secret that you brought us all the way out here for?"

Jenny and Eric clasped each others hand as they braced themselves to give the news, but were interrupted by the waiter.

"How is everybody tonight?" he said, "Can I interest you in our wine selection?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin." Marjorie blurted out.

Eric spoke-up to fill the void, "I'll have the Vermentino." he said to the waiter, and then directed his explanation toward Phil, "It has these subtle green herbal notes that pair perfectly with the salmon here." Although this display was pretentious, it was done with a poise that invited friendship.