Joy and I are lying next to each other in what appears to be two long rows of a field bed. Perhaps it’s just a vast hall with people sleeping on the floor. He and I have staked out spots next to each other intentionally hoping to get a few cheap thrills surreptitiously. Outside it is night and the room is darkened. Margaret B lies on the other side of him. I know Joy’s wife, Lulu, is also sleeping somewhere in the hall but in a spot unknown to me.
The next day it is Joy’s day as he is demonstrating how to make a dessert tart. The biggest tart pan I have ever seen is on the floor. It must be 10-12 feet in diameter and reminds me of the biggest enchilada festival Raphael and I attended once in Las Cruces. Helpers are putting in the layer of crust into the pan. There are ample folds hanging over the edge that looks like frills on a dress cut on the bias. It is beautiful and impressive.
However, when we sit down to eat at a long table such as the victorious feast of the saints in heaven as illustrated by Harry Anderson in the Children’s Bible Story by Arthur Maxwell, a set we had at home as children, the dish being served is not a tart but matzo ball soup. I am somewhat surprised and a little disappointed but before I even have a chance to sample it, I can hear exclamations of approval from others around me. With my spoon I cut into the good sized ball in my bowl and find it is not dense but light and airy. I turn to Joy and enquire, “Did you use leavening?” His response is in the affirmative and I’m not impressed because any home cook can get it light by using leavening. It is delicious though, I admit.
Later in the day, Joy and I have a quiet moment together and he says in a confidential voice, “What shall we do about last night?” He probably noticed the puzzled look on my face and continues, “Maggie, knows. She noticed us bump into each other during the night too many times to be ‘accidental.’” I frown at this unhappy turn of events. I don’t want Lulu to be hurt by our careless flirtation which really means nothing to either of us.
The next evening I intend to try to get Joy off the hook by taking a walk with Manoj and Mohan but really it’s Paul, Mohan’s younger brother. I link my arm through Paul’s nonchalantly so the world can see I don’t mean any harm by my friendliness, I’m just bindaas. But as the three of us walk together on the grounds of the conference in the darkening evening, Paul puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes gently in a sexual way. This act definitely catches me off guard though I’m far from being repulsed and smile to myself as I realize the joke’s on me.
