Claudette and I eyed our special invitation with both curiosity and suspicion. November 1, 2013, was either two years or forty-four years away, depending upon one’s vantage point in time. I inspected the envelope hoping to find a postmark or an address, but there were no additional unique markings. My sister returned to her side of the booth and we sat mutely staring at each other. Our silence was finally broken by an insistent flapping movement followed by a three note whistle. We turned towards the sound and saw the delivery bird inspecting us from the window sill. “Did you know that the whistling warbler is called a Golden Crowned sparrow? I remember seeing a picture of one in mother’s book A Field Guide to Birds. Doesn’t the puff of gold on the top of its head look like a tiny toupee?”
Claudette smiled at my question, but kept her eye on the birdie. “I didn’t realize that our cheeky little messenger was still hanging around.” Just as she spoke, the sparrow flew out of the window and landed in a nearby cherry tree.
I was about to comment, but our toothy waitress returned unexpectedly with a tray full of food. “I’ve got two grilled cheese sandwiches, chips and fresh brewed coffee for you gals. Mr. Chuck Chicollini sends his compliments, lunch is on the house. Chef Chuck wanted me to tell you that any friend of Troy D is a friend of his.”
I squinted while trying to read our waitress's name tag. “Ah, thanks Angora. Please tell Mr. Chicollini how much we appreciate his kindness. The food looks really good, but who is Troy D?
Angora’s protruding front teeth covered her lower lip as she answered, “Troy Donahue, of course.”
“As in Troy Donahue... the actor, Claudette questioned? I am fairly certain that he is a goner.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he passed a few years back.”
Angora appeared flustered. “Not the actor, I meant the bird. Chef Chuck named the sparrow Troy D after the actor because they both have that thatch of golden hair on top. Of course, Troy D has feathers and not hair, but nonetheless....”
Claudette smiled insincerely at Angora. “Oh, thanks for clearing that up for us. I thought you were talking about some new rapper on the music scene. Now I get it. Troy D is the same envelope toting tweety bird who sashayed across our table earlier.”
This nonsensical conversation reminded me of a Drama class assignment I once had in college. The purpose of the exercise was to explore The Theater of the Absurd and its ties to the idea that life has no inherent meaning. Students were instructed to discuss random topics while our flights of ideas were recorded. Then, the professor turned our disjointed dialogue into a script and read it back to the class. I stopped retro-reflecting on life’s little absurdities when I heard Claudette’s voice began to escalate. I tapped on her hand. “Hey, sis, maybe we should eat before our food gets cold.”
Claudette dismissed Angora with a quick salute. “Oh, and on your way back to the kitchen, tell Chuck we would like to thank him personally for lunch.”
Angora’s unblinking eyes were hugely magnified as she stared down at us through her rose colored glasses. After a long pause, she hunched her shoulders and unceremoniously hopped towards the kitchen.
Neither of us commented on Angora’s springy gait as somehow it seemed fitting. Instead, we hungrily consumed the grilled cheese sandwiches and the chips. Simultaneously, we finished our meal and pushed our empty plates aside. “Claudette, let’s forget about the present and rewind for a minute. I noticed that you and Thomas really connected at the party. What happened? I thought everything was fine until I saw you in the garden looking totally freaked out.
“Being with Thomas was amazing, Claudette continued. We both experienced some kind of cosmic and magnetic pull of attraction. I was okay until I felt an overpowering need to find you. I’m fairly certain Thomas thought I had gone a little nuts, but I didn’t care. I overruled him.
“Sis, I am really glad you followed your intuition.”
“When I found you in the garden, I felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. I don’t know how to explain it. A few minutes later I locked eyes with the turbaned fortune teller, and that’s when she flashed me her ghastly grin. Suddenly, I recognized Becky under the oracle get up and that’s when I lost my shit.”
“Claudette, I’m glad we left the party. I think The Fates, or the great and mighty Oz, or who ever else is running this Magical Mystery Tour, prevented the two of you from intersecting.”
“Fate, butterflies, whatever. It made me so sad to leave Thomas at the party knowing she was there. Seriously, seeing his confused expression as we were leaving was just too much.” Claudette dabbed her eyes with a napkin.
I gave her my cheeriest smile. “I’m sorry, but at least you know the future story has a happy ending.”
“Jeeze, I was so shocked when Becky smiled at me, Claudette sighed. She looked so twisted.”
Listen Claudette, let me explain what happened right before you showed up. When I sat down to get my fortune read, I recognized it was Becky immediately. My instinct told me to back away from the table, but I realized that she couldn't see me. She was stoned to the bone, and I mean thoroughly trashed on something wicked. I reached across the table and grabbed a hold of her hands. I thought someone should try and talk her off the ledge.
Wow, I wonder who spiked her Cheerios? I don’t remember hearing that she mixed with the drugs.”
"At first, I used my sweet calming voice and we had a nice one-way conversation. I talked... while Becky’s eyes rolled around in the back of her head. She finally mumbled some cryptic stuff, but it was hard to decipher. She said something like, “All my square, or Luna square, or a circle meets the square.” The strangest part of our tête-à-tête happened when I told her I wanted to read her fortune. She stopped tripping momentarily and gave me her hand to read... palm up.”
Claudette gave me her best slack jawed zombie expression. “Oh, that sounds soooo Night of the Living Dead!
I laughed. “Seriously, it was really weird. The dimmer lights were on, but nobody was home.”
Claudette was always entertained when I performed my “energy readings.” “What happened next, she urged? Did you give her a reading?”
“Yes, I ran my finger over the lines in Becky’s palm. Truthfully, I decided not to dick with destiny. I used my best portentous voice and told her the truth. I said that she would soon meet a tall, handsome and fair haired stranger. They would live near the ocean together, but the bloom would fall off the rose. Eventually, they'd go their separate ways and marry other people.”
“Did your words register? I mean, do you think she was really listening?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say.” Oh, and I also told Becky that if she ever saw this fair headed man in the new millennium, she should run in the opposite direction. Otherwise, her bulging eyeballs would turn opaque and she’d instantly go blind. I think she understood me on some deeper level because she flinched.” Claudette and I dissolved into laughter.
Just then, we saw a bouncing butterball of man coming our way brandishing a slotted burger flipper. “Don’t you dare look at me, begged Claudette. I swear I’ll wet my pants.”
I lowered my voice. “That must be Chef Chuck. Doesn’t he look like a big Weeble from Weebleville?”
“Yeah, and Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down," added Claudette.
We both were trying to contain our hysteria as Chef Chuck rolled to a full stop in front of our booth. He wore an impeccably clean apron, a puffy white chef’s hat and incredibly tight checkered trousers. Black diagonal-shaped eyebrows accentuated his forehead which gave his face a perpetually questioning expression.
“Hiya girls. What’s cooking?” asked Chef Chuck. For emphasis, or as an exclamation point, he slapped his spatula on our table. The sound of metal hitting Formica resonated throughout the dining room. “I’m glad you finally showed up, he continued.”
Claudette and I glanced nervously at each other before giving the chef our full attention. “That’s strange. Were you expecting us?” Claudette asked.
“Of course, he said. It seems like I’ve been waiting for you two bookends to appear since the end of the Roaring Twenties.” His laughter boomed over our heads like an abrupt staccato of rolling thunder.
Impatience seeped into my voice. “Do you know anything about the invitation my sister and I received today?
Chef Chuck gleefully rubbed his hands together and snickered. Yes, a little birdie told me so.” He put his hands over his mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Paulette, this scene is way too weird. I think we should amscray, as they say in Pig Latin.”
Chef picked up the spatula again and waved it over his head. “No, you can’t leave yet. I’ve got the scoop. I’m suppose to hand feed you some important information.”
“Well, let’s have it. My sister and I are ready for a second helping.”
“Okay, okay,” he replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of twenties with an address attached. “I’ve been instructed to tell you to take this money and stay the night at the Stewart Hotel in Union Square. In the morning, walk across the street to the Dewey Monument. It’s a tall white column with a bronze statue on top. The figure is holding a trident and a wreath, you can’t miss it.
Claudette was annoyed. “We know where the monument is located, but what’s next? Are we supposed to wait for someone or something? Where did you get this information?”
Chef Chuck pointed out the window. “Troy D gave me the envelope. It had the money inside plus a handwritten note. The message read, “Give this package to the twins when they arrive.”
“How do you know we are the right twins?” Claudette snapped.
“You are Paulette and Claudette, right? Angora was keeping an eye out for you two. I guess she must have overheard your names in passing.” Chef Sherlock seemed pleased with his brilliant deduction.
Claudette was in a pissy mood. “Chuck, what’s with all the subterfuge? I’d like to know who trained Troy D. I mean, he’s just a wee bird with a tiny brain. Who does he work for the CIA, UPS, SPCA?” For the second time today The Theater of the Absurd crossed my mind.
“Girls, I want you to think of me as your special intercessor. Believe me, my sources are sound. Truthfully though, I can’t give you any more details. My gut tells me that it’s time for you gals to follow Troy D's directions and figure it out from there. The puzzle pieces will eventually fit together if you follow the breadcrumbs.
Claudette read the note quickly before pocketing the cash. “Alrighty then. I guess this tea-party is over. Are you ready to split the scene, Dormouse? She grinned at me Cheshire cat style.
I nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds like a plan, MaryAnn.”
Chef Chuck suddenly slapped the side of his head. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something and it is very significant. Re-think the date on the invitation. November 1, 2013, might be a code or a password rather than a future date.
“Now, that’s an interesting theory. My sister and I will definitely keep that in mind for future reference. Chef, thanks for your hospitality and for interceding on our behalf. I think it’s time Claudette and I and head on down the Yellow Brick road."
Chef Chuck gave us each a hug and walked towards the kitchen. He did not turn around, but he called back over his shoulder, “I hope you find your way, On a wing and a prayer.”
Once outside, my sister flagged down a Yellow Cab and we happily climbed inside. “The Stewart Hotel,” requested Claudette. The cabbie sped off in the direction of Union Square. He had incredibly good luck with the traffic signals as we hit zero red lights along the way. Claudette and I took it as a good omen.
As usual, Union Square was crowded with cars and pedestrians vying for the right-of-way. “Stewart Hotel, little ladies,” barked the cabbie. We jumped out at the curb and Claudette paid the man.
I pointed at the hotel. “Hey, we’ve stayed here before. It’s The Handlery, or it will be at some point in the future.”
Claudette smiled. “Yeah, and that means Lefty’s is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Let’s save the best for first. I could use a cocktail right about now. Do you think they will ask for our IDs?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s worth a try.” We walked several doors down and stood under Lefty O’Doul’s green neon sign. I opened the door and was instantly overpowered by the scent of Hofbräu cooking. The various carved meat smells merged with the odor of baked potatoes and overly cooked peas. “Sis, some things never change.”
The place was crowed with tourist types standing in line for an early dinner. We slid in behind the piano and maneuvered ourselves into a nice dark corner. A harried waitress finally approached and asked what we were drinking. “Two double martinis,” Claudette boldly answered. The server jotted down our order and never once looked up.
“You sounded so mature. Great job. A double should fix us right up, I said.”
The drinks arrived without fanfare, and we spent the next hour reviewing our afternoon spent at the diner. Claudette ran a hand through her hair and straightened out a few tangles. “If you ask me, old Chief Chucky has been cooking with too much gas. And Angora...Jesus. And maybe his bird friend, Troy D, is really a robot.”
I could hear my sister chattering, but my mind was stuck in a groove. I couldn’t stop thinking about the words Becky (the Exothalmic Oracle of Asbury) had spoken while hallucinating to the oldies. It was like working on the Chronicle's Jumble word puzzle, I knew I’d get it eventually.
Claudette suddenly whistled to get my attention. “Yoo-hoo! Is Paulette home?”
The vodka had worked its miracle. It erased all my tension so I could think more clearly. The answer suddenly “gestalted.” “Claudette, I finally decoded Becky’s words and they are very apropos. I believe she said, Union Square and Alma’s square. Do you remember when we were visiting the 20’s and you told me about Alma Spreckels? You said that she was the model for the bronze statue on top of the Dewey monument in Union Square.”
“I do remember talking about Alma Spreckles, but what do you think it means? I think we need to isolate the common denominators. What do you say, Paulette?
“At this point, I don’t understand the equation, but an old math saying comes to mind. We know the answer, we just need to work through the problem. I think our best bet is to study the variables. After that, your guess is as good as mine.
