The Dinner Guest

Hello? Is anybody in there? I say, can you hear me? Ah. Good. I thought I would have to shout myself to death out here. Do you mind if I come on in? Thank you so much. Oh my… what a lovely dinner you have set before you! Would you mind? Good. I thought not. Mmmmmm ah! This is deeee-licious! Have you tried the sauce, yet? Marvelous. Truly a credit to your talented cook.

Ah. Who am I? Dear me, I am the pushy one, aren’t I? Come, come, do sit down and I shall attempt to explain myself. Go on, now, fill up your plate and dig in. I don’t want you to starve on my account. Here, take some of these aromatic garlic and red-skin potatoes. That’s it.

Now, my name. Hmmm, this fruit is fabulous! Peaches at the peak of ripeness, no doubt. I am, oh! Do have some of the sauce on that. As I said…. yes, yes, of course. Back to the subject at hand. Me. I am Saroyan Flowerby. What? Never heard of me, have you? Well, that is a pity. Indeed. I am certain most of the free world has head of Saroyan Flowerby. Unless that is just my ego speaking out of hand, once more. It usually does that when I am not looking.

Please, help yourself to the rest of the fruit dish while I try those tempting green beans. Grown in your own greenhouse, no doubt? Mmmm, and sauteed with rich butter and… is that clover honey? It must be! My culinary expertise always has a way of overwhelming me. But, I suppose you have never encountered such a problem, have you? Not with this wonderful cook to prepare such dishes for you, what does it matter behind the preparation when you can indulge in the result, eh?

Oh, yes. Back to me, again. My, I feel as though I am dominating this entire conversation. REally, Mr. … oh my! I’ve just caught myself in another faux pas. Mistake, you see. I never got your name. So, do tell, kind sir, mine host of this gracious hall, what is your revered name?

Sean O’Reilly. Strong Irish name, that is. Are you fond of the potatoes? I adore them, but my gastronomic tendencies do not allow for the savoring of such a noble root. Gives me indigestion, they do, if I can be permitted that indelicacy. Terribly embarassing, wouldn’t you say? You don’t? Ah well, a matter of separate opinions doth divide the misfortunate. I believe I just made that up. Quite an insperation you are, Mr. O’Reilly.

Oh dear. Are we back to that old question, again? Who am I? Who are any of u s, you should ask, sir. When the wind blows us to points thither and yon, how much have we changed? Are we no longer the person we were when we woke at the ungodly hour of 5:30am? What events brought us to this house, to this very dinner table where before us lies a feast worthy of the gods? What movements in the spheres have caused us to be who and what we are in this very fragile point in Time? You tell me, Mr. O’Reilly!! What can I say to such a question? Hmmmm? What would you be able to answer if you were asked the same? Indeed, Mr. O’Reilly you would find yourself in the same place I find myself. With a very full stomach, and the great need to take a walk and have a smoke.

I shall bid you adieu, that’s a fond farewell, good sir. Should I have the great fortune to pass your way again, I would be most happy to partake in another one of your grand feasts and discuss further with you, the meaning of Life. Farewell, Mr. O’Reilly. Oh! And to you as well, Mrs. O’Reilly! You and I shall chat another time. Pity we missed each other. Goodnight!

“Sean…?”

“Mary, I… uhm…”

March, 1991