Let’s Do Lunch
by Jeff Baker
“You’ve got to love the ambience,” Alec said.
“Yeah, fine dining furnished in early Leavenworth,” Bud said. “What was this, a fallout shelter?”
“Nope. It was part of some kind of aquarium at one time,” Alec said. “I’ve seen pictures. This room had a tank and some large fish, maybe salmon.”
“Then we should have ordered fish,” Bud said grinning. “Seriously, look at this place. Glass walls, underground surrounded by concrete walls. It has prison fish tank written all over it. I keep expecting to see an angelfish swim by.”
“You’d think with all that I could get a glass of water before lunch.” Alec said. “Hey, how long have we been doing this, anyway?”
“Waiting on lunch, about ten minutes,” Bud said. “This isn’t fast food.”
“No, I mean, the lunch thing? You and me?” Alec mused. “I figure, let’s see, since 1978, about fifty three years now.”
“Whose turn is it to pay?” Bud said grinning.
“Not sure. I don’t think we ever kept track.” Alec said.
“Remember when we set this up as a date?” Bud said.
“About six years ago,” Alec said. “We were both, well, widowed and we wanted to make lunch something more.”
“Yeah, the last time we felt that awkward to each other was when we were about twenty,” Bud said.
“It took us about an hour over crepes and champagne for us to start laughing!” Alec said.
“Next month we were back to doing lunch,” Bud said.
“Yeah, at a hot dog place!” Alec said.
They both laughed. A few minutes later the waiter brought their water and apologized for being late. When he left, Bud and Alec toasted each other with their glasses of water.
“To seventy.” Bud said.
“To seventy plus, I think,” Alec said.
“I haven’t been counting that close,” Bud said. “So, here’s to old friends.”
They were smiling as they drank their water.