Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [61]
John, thankfully, was oblivious to the churning wheels in my head.
“The bartender here makes a drink he calls a Magic Margarita. Want to try one?” Risley was scanning the menu in such a way that I knew he was familiar with it.
“Does it have tons of alcohol in it? Because I haven’t had a drop of tequila in years. You’ll have to carry me out of here.”
“I don’t think they’re as dangerous as all that.”
Too bad, I thought and said, “Then why not? I could use a little magic in my life.”
“Couldn’t we all?” He closed his menu, signaled our waiter, and said, “So what are you in the mood for? Seafood? Chicken?”
“What do you recommend? You’ve been here, right?”
“Yeah, about a hundred times. Most of the waitstaff used to be or still is a student of mine. Including this fine young lady.”
“Hey, Professor Risley! Great to see you!”
“Good to see you, too, Ms. Geier. Cate Cooper, this is Christi Geier, she was in my playwriting class. How’s law school?”
“Nice to meet you Ms. Cooper. Ah, it’s the LSATs, sir. Going to give them another shot. So, what can I get for y’all?”
“The LSATs. They can be rough. Good luck. So how about a Magic Margarita for my friend and a Dos Equis for me?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back with some chips and salsa.”
“Thanks,” Risley said and turned his attention back to me. “So, tell me about growing up on Folly Beach. That must’ve been incredible. The Edge of America and all that. Was it?”
I looked at John Risley and then around the dining room for a moment, pausing to frame my answer. I decided to just tell him how I felt at the moment, which I was somewhat unsure about, because I had not been leading the most reflective life until Addison died.
“You know what? I think my childhood was probably like everyone else’s. There were some fabulous things about it and some really challenging moments, too. I mean, there were a few episodes in there where Folly felt more like the Edge of the World than the Edge of America, you know, like we could fall off at any time and you know, spiral out into deep space.”
“We?”
“My older sister Patti and me.”
“I always wished I had a sister. Or a brother. I’m an only child.”
“Being an only child has some real advantages, doesn’t it? I mean, I would’ve been a disaster without my sister telling me what was wrong with me all the time but there were definitely times when she probably wished she had the bathroom to herself and . . .”
John laughed and said, “Well, it was great for me at Christmas but hard to navigate the Department of Great Expectations.”
“Every kid in the world has to pass through the Department of Great Expectations.”
The chips arrived, brought by a very young waiter, and he sort of plunked them in the middle of the table along with some pretty appetizing green sauce for dipping. Then a moment later the drinks appeared via Ms. Geier and she placed them in front of us.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Sorry it took so long. The bartenders are slammed. Okay! Got a few specials for you tonight,” she said and began describing the intergalactic heights to which the chef planned to elevate the unsuspecting humble tilapia and how the ceviche was going to change the way we viewed southwestern cuisine, especially now that it had collided into a spectacular fusion of chilies and seafood from the pristine waters around the Lowcountry. “And, not to be overlooked are some mighty fine spiced shrimp, wood grilled and finished off with a cilantro garlic butter and that comes with a side of sweet corn pudding. Of course there’s always the South by Southwest Mixed Grill . . .”
“I’m full from just listening!” I said.
John shook his head, smiling at his former student. “I always said, Ms. Geier, you should go into theater. You’re missing your calling. Do we really need more lawyers?”
Ms. Geier grinned and said, “I don’t know, sir. I hope so. Y’all need a few minutes?”
“No, I think I’m all set. How about you, Cate? See anything interesting on that menu?”
“Sure, I’m thinking the ceviche to start and the Hawaiian sunfish?