I'll Never Finish This Book

TWENTY-ONE

December 31:

We attended a New Year's Eve party at the steakhouse near my apartment. It wasn't a traditional spot to celebrate the new year, but it was the only place in New York that wasn't overpopulated.

Eli and I entered Alexander's Steakhouse — a classy restaurant, or it had to be; it had a person's name on the sign.

The host asked what name we had the reservation under. Eli tried reading the host's name while still maintaining eye contact.

"Yes, we did...Isaac," Eli spoke with an accent that appeared to be a mixture of several different accents. He always said people believed anything if it was said with an accent.

"And what is your name, sir," Isaac questioned. Eli was about to speak until the host was called into the kitchen by another employee. That bought me a few seconds to talk him out of it.

"Eli, you know we can't afford to be here. Let's go. We don't even have reservations."

"What makes you think I didn't call and make reservations for us?" he defended, scribbling something onto Isaac's notebook.

"Um, that right there," I whispered harshly, pointing at his hand.

Isaac headed back to us. "Sorry about that. I'm not sure I got your name."

Eli placed his hands in his suit pockets. "Martin," Eli paused to create unnecessary suspense. "Aston Martin."

I scoffed. Is he really buying this? Eli nudged me in the side.

"Yes, I have a reservation for two under the name Martin. You can follow me." We were led to a table that was never intended to be ours. Eli pulled a chair out for me before taking his seat.

We were handed our menus and two glasses of wine before the man walked away. I could feel everyone in the restaurant staring at us. We were very out of place.

"Aston?" I questioned astonished.

Eli smiled smugly.

"What are you up to, Eli."

"What?" he retorted.

"The name? Whatever it is you wrote in his book? What if the person who made those reservations shows up?"

"Yeah, I'm sure the Aston Martin is rushing over here."

"We're not supposed to be here."

"It'll be fun. What's the worst that can happen?"

He always worried me when he asked that because the worst always happened with him.

Our waiter checked if we were ready to order. Eli nodded his head and handed him back the unopened menus. I had no idea what I was getting.

"Hello there, Jesse," Eli began speaking, "I'd like to try one of your finest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, please."

"I'm sorry, but we don't serve that type of meal here. What else can I get you?"

Eli sighed dramatically. "I want the peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

The waiter continued to apologize. "We don't have that on the menu, but I'm sure there must be something else that you'd like to try. Perhaps the-"

"I'll have whatever you recommend," Eli interrupted.

"And for the madame?"

"She'll have the same."

Deciding it wasn't worth protesting anymore, I looked around the room at all the wealthy people. They made being alive look effortless. The sounds of the quiet background music and silverware clanking against the plates helped fill the silence between the two of us.