SEPARATE TABLES: By Adrian Ludens
Friday, October 15th, 2010The gentleman making the reservation insisted upon separate tables.
“My chosen and I must begin our dinner apart,” he murmured to Laura over the phone. “I intend to ask for her hand. We come from a very old country and certain customs must be observed.”
“Of course,” Laura replied. She promised separate tables in opposite corners of the candlelit bistro and offered to serve them personally.
When the appointed time arrived, so did a pale girl of about eighteen. Laura showed her to a table, went over the night’s featured dishes and recommended a glass of Clos Du Bois Chardonnay.
The girl shook her head solemnly. “I must wait for Mr. Rask.”
“Of course.” Laura admired the girl’s porcelain skin and french-braided hair for a moment and withdrew. She returned to the hostess table in time to greet Mr. Rask.
He was a muscular man with handsome features, close-cropped russet hair and sparkling blue-green eyes that reminded Laura of her trip to Bermuda two summers ago. After showing him to a table in the opposite corner Laura decided Mr. Rask was easily the most handsome man she’d ever met. He had an undeniable charisma that Laura couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“I would like a bottle of Marques de Riscal.” Rask felt inside his coat and continued. “My chosen will start with the artisan cheese and olive plate, with the vanilla salted quail and roasted garnet yams for her main course. Bring her a glass of Pinot Noir Undarraga. And present her with this.” He held out a small square black box.
Laura took it and found it surprisingly heavy for its size. She placed it in her apron pocket and returned to the kitchen puzzling over the rigid customs of this strange couple. Was this an arranged marriage perhaps? There did seem to be a noticeable difference in age and likely a substantial difference in wealth.
Artisan cheese plate in hand, Laura walked toward the girl’s table. A stooped man with a bushy white beard jostled past her roughly. One gnarled hand gripped the pale fingers of the girl.
“Oh, Papa, thank you!” she whispered fiercely. Tears of relief streaked down the girl’s cheeks and Laura watched as the pair hurried out into the night.
Not knowing what else to do, Laura brought the plate to the girl’s vacant table and sat down. A leather pouch now lay on the table. Laura lifted it and heard the clink of coins. She removed the small black box from her apron pocket and glanced around at the other tables, but the patrons were engrossed in their own meals and conversations.
Laura raised the lid of the box and a covetous moan escaped her lips. The largest ruby she’d ever seen glimmered like liquid flame; the centerpiece of an opulent ring ensconced in the black box. Thirteen tiny white diamonds surrounded the ruby like ashen coals around a still-blazing fire.
Laura tore her eyes away and snapped the lid closed. She rose and shakily made her way back to Rask’s table in the opposite corner of the bistro.
The man raised an eyebrow as Laura reached his side.
“She left,” Laura murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Rask’s face fell. His shoulders slumped.
“She left with an old bearded man,” Laura went on. “This was on the table.”
She handed him the bag of coins.
“Her father changed his mind, it seems.” Rask made the bag disappear into a pocket and asked, “The ring; you still have it, then?”
Laura swallowed. Reluctantly, she withdrew the small box and placed it on the table. Rask looked at Laura intently.
“You saw the ring?”
“It’s breathtaking.”
“My chosen would not take it.” He lifted the lid.
“I would,” Laura heard herself saying. The beauty of the ring had completely entranced her.
“The ring was to be a gift in exchange for her hand,” Rask revealed. Laura realized he was appraising her face, then her fingers. “Would you give me your hand to receive this ring?”
“I would. Absolutely.” Laura glanced at the handsome stranger and marveled. He had looks, money and a delicious air of mystery. Her eyes strayed back to the ruby as she imagined a whirlwind marriage, romance, adventure-
“I must ask again;” Rask broke in on her thoughts. “Are you certain you wish to give me your hand in exchange for this ring?”
“Yes!” Laura reached for the box. Rask produced a gleaming meat cleaver and neatly severed her right hand from her wrist in one brutal yet efficient blow.
Laura gaped as her hand seemed to jitter across the table toward the ring in the box. Rask wiped the blade of the cleaver clean on his cloth napkin and returned it to a coat pocket. He lifted the ring from the box and held it out. Laura focused on the glittering red jewel and held out her shaking left hand. The handsome man at the table gently took her wrist with his left hand to steady it and slid the ring onto her middle finger with his right.
“A perfect fit!” he marveled. “And it looks gorgeous on you.”
Laura nodded weakly and pressed her bloody stump between her ribs and her left arm in an attempt to reduce the steady gouts of blood that kept spurting out.
“You’ll want have someone fashion a tourniquet for that right away,” Rask instructed gently.
Laura wondered if she could cauterize the wound on the grill in the kitchen. She took a step in that direction then wobbled and turned back.
The eccentric gentleman pried off a fingernail with a small pair of pliers and daintily nibbled at the pad of the fingertip. He paused when he realized Laura was still gazing at him.
“Yes?”
“I just…” The bistro spun around Laura like a carrousel. “Thank you for dining with us tonight. Enjoy your meal.”
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©2010 Adrian Ludens
Adrian Ludens is an affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association. He lives in the Black Hills of South Dakota with his family in a four level home his six-year-old dubbed “The Slanted Mansion”. Adrian invites you to visit his author page on Amazon and to find him on Facebook for updates and links.
