Something She's Not Telling Us - Darcey Bell Page 0,27
and says Ruth wants to take them all to dinner. There’s a spot in Flushing. The cuisine’s from a distant corner of China. Super funky, super cheap, super excellent. Ruth says it’s really special.
Charlotte’s so shocked to hear her brother use the words cuisine, really, and special that she says yes. He would never agree to go somewhere trendy or overpriced. But this place seems to say to him: Immigrants flinging themselves into the melting pot. Democracy in action. Ruth must have figured out Rocco.
Rocco says, “We should go before the food bloggers ruin it.”
Daisy’s thrilled by this break in her weeknight routine of the nutritious dinner with both parents at home. Pajamas, a story, bed. The happy domestic evening every kid is supposed to want. That’s why she’s so happy to escape.
Eli likes to drive. They garage their car, a 2017 Saab, on Avenue A, though they rarely use it.
It’s an unseasonably warm evening. Charlotte likes being in their little world on wheels heading for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. She opens her window, but when they pass a cemetery where someone has made a bonfire of lopped-off branches, Daisy coughs. Maybe she’s just clearing her throat, but Charlotte rolls up the window.
The GPS coaxes them around cloverleafs and down quiet residential streets. On a block of one-family houses, the GPS voice insists they have arrived. They drive back and forth, annoyed. Getting lost isn’t something that Charlotte and Eli handle well. Each blames the other and blows up way too soon.
It’s Daisy who says, “Maybe it’s there.” She points down an alley lined with snarling stone lions. “Are they real, Mom?”
“No,” says Charlotte. “They’re made of rock.”
“Cement,” says Eli.
“I meant cement,” says Charlotte.
Eli says, “You knew they’re not real lions, Daisy. You’re just messing with Mom.”
Daisy giggles. “I know, Dad. I’m not a baby.”
Delicious smells—soy sauce, roasting meat, garlic, onions—drift in through Eli’s window.
“Are you hungry?” Charlotte asks.
“I am now,” says Eli. “Starving.”
They park a block from the restaurant. Daisy skips between them, holding their hands, asking them to fly her. Anyone passing would think: Happy, happy family. Charlotte feels a rush of gratitude, and then a jolt of dread. She knocks on a tree they pass.
“What was that for?” asks Daisy.
“Mom believes in the spirits in the trees. She thinks they’re waiting to harm us. So every time she has a positive thought, she knocks on a tree.”
“Why does knocking help?” Daisy asks.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte says.
“So why do you do it?” asks Daisy.
Charlotte says, “To let the spirits know I know they’re there.”
“Mom’s crazy,” Daisy tells Eli.
“Just careful,” Eli says.
Charlotte says, “I have a good feeling about the food.”
Eli says, “I’m not looking forward to this.”
Charlotte says, “Try. Let’s make it fun.”
Outside the restaurant, Rocco and Ruth sit on a bench, tapping their phones. A small crowd mills around, waiting to be seated, scanning the walkway for someone they’re meeting. Most of them are also looking at their phones.
“They won’t seat us till our whole party’s here,” Rocco says.
“Kiss your Uncle Rocco hello,” Charlotte says. Daisy creeps over to Rocco, who scoops her up and lifts her in the air and then onto his lap.
“Hi there, Daisy,” says Ruth.
Daisy dislodges her head from the crook of Rocco’s neck. “Hi.”
“Remember me?”
“Yes.”
“I have a present for you!” Ruth says.
“What is it?”
“Let’s wait till later. It’ll be a surprise.”
“We’re all here,” Charlotte says. “They can seat us now.”
“Finally,” Rocco says.
“I’m on it.” Ruth jumps to her feet. Through the window they watch her talking to a Chinese couple. Everyone’s smiling.
Ruth’s still smiling when she comes back. “They’re friends of a friend of a chef I know. That’s how I heard about this place. Follow me.”
As they trail Ruth into the restaurant like a family of ducklings, people step aside.
Special, Charlotte thinks. Ruth makes Rocco feel special. That must be so nice for him.
The brightly lit room is crowded with bare Formica-covered tables. Still more enticing smells are coming from the kitchen.
“No frills,” Rocco says. “I like that.”
Ruth beams.
They sit at the round table: Eli on Charlotte’s right, then Rocco, Daisy, Ruth, then Charlotte, who longs to ask Ruth to move so she can sit next to her daughter. Charlotte wants Ruth to offer to move. It irks her that she doesn’t.
Ruth introduces the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Moy. The woman puts her hand on Ruth’s shoulder and murmurs something that Ruth leans in to hear.
“Can I let Mrs. Moy order for us? She’ll bring us the best dishes on the menu.”