Commencement
Page 1
Commencement
Copyright 2002, 2011 Lawrence Cherry
One
After the long train ride all the way from Massachusetts, Allen Sharpe looked forward to reuniting with his family and sharing stories over an old-fashioned, home cooked meal. Yet when he got home, all he found was a note on the refrigerator door telling him to come to the New Towers, room B. The New Towers was a luxury condo on Harlem’s newly gentrified West Side where his friend, Tim, lived. “Why would my parents want me to come to Tim’s building? And what was room B?” Allen puzzled to himself. As many times as he had visited Tim, Allen had never seen a room B. All of the apartments were numbered. He continued to ponder the situation as he took the subway over to the Upper West Side.
When Allen finally arrived at the New Towers, he decided to ask Bradley, the doorman, for more information.
“Good evening, Bradley”, Allen greeted the doorman cheerfully.
“Good evening, Mr. Sharpe. Would you like me to ring Mr. Russell for you?”
“Actually, I got this note that says I’m supposed to go to a ‘Room B’” said Allen handing Bradley the note. “I’m not sure where that is. Would you know?”
“Ahh, yes. Just take the elevator all the way up to the top floor, to the restaurant and speak with the young woman at the front desk. She’ll show you”, replied Bradley in his usual courteous manner.
“Thanks”, smiled Allen as he made his way toward the elevator. The doorman nodded respectfully.
“So we’re having dinner at Menagerie”, Allen mused on the elevator ride. “This must be my parents’ idea of a present. Tim probably suggested it. But could they have been more cryptic with the note?” Then Allen began to wonder how they could afford to have dinner at such an expensive place. His parents, Lena and Vernon Sharpe, had been religious, hardworking, blue collar people all of their lives. Lena had been teaching at P.S. 118 in Harlem for over 25 years and she was still going. Vernon worked as a maintenance technician for the New York City Parks Department. Despite their combined 50 years of service to the city, their wages only created a modest income relative to the standard of living in the “Big Apple”. At the same time, Allen also knew of his parents’ ability to stretch a dime. It was this ability that allowed Lena and Vernon to give to their church, Greater Apostolic Church of Christ, charities, and still have money for some of Allen’s college expenses, as well as their retirement. “They probably started saving their money in anticipation of this special dinner years ago”, thought Allen.
When the elevator opened, Allen walked down the short hallway to the entrance of the restaurant with its heavy glass doors that read “Menagerie” in big frosted script letters. As he entered, he was awash in the elegant ambiance of the place. The terrace windows that wrapped around the back of the establishment afforded a magnificent view of the Upper West Side skyline. There were strings of little orange incandescent bulbs wound around ivory columns and the fixtures along the walls, giving a warm glow to the place. Every table was draped with beautiful silk and linen rose-colored tablecloths, and surrounded by high backed French mahogany chairs, with silk damask cushions. The evening moonlight was reflected in the high quality silverware and crystal on the tables. No matter how many times he had passed by this place, Allen was always astounded by its lavishness. He knew that one day soon he would be a regular customer, but right now he was looking for room B. Allen walked over to the fair-skinned young woman who was impeccably dressed in a black skirt suit with a blue and gray tie, sitting in the maitre’d’s booth in the corner near the entrance. Her hair was piled high on top of her head in a French roll. She had her head cocked to the side cradling the receiver of a phone, while busily flipping through the pages of the reservation book she had in front of her. Finally, she hung up the phone and began to scribble something hastily onto one of the pages before typing something into the computer next to her book. She was completely oblivious to Allen’s presence, even though he had politely cleared his throat at least several times.
“Excuse, me. I’m looking for a room B”, said Allen to gain her attention at last.
“Oh, yes, that’s one of the private halls. Are you Allen Sharpe?” asked the young woman, looking up from her work and checking her watch.
“Yes...”
“Good. I’ll just make a quick call, and then I’ll take you over.”
“A private hall?” Allen pondered to himself, as the young woman stepped away to another area to make her call, even though there was a phone right in front of her. He was beginning to think that this was no ordinary dinner with his family.
“Right this way sir”, the young woman said reappearing suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
She led him down a narrow passage way behind the booth that went all the way around behind the restaurant. By now, Allen was too preoccupied with the mystery of this dinner to be tempted to check the woman out from behind, as he usually would in such a situation. The passage opened into a large open area with its own reception and waiting space. From the front, he could see what looked like a business conference room that was labeled “Room A”, but nothing else. Allen was about to suggest that the woman had made a mistake, when she sensed his uneasiness.
“Room B is around the corner at the end of the hall.”
“Thank You”, Allen replied before making his way down to room B.