One Good Turn

As I walked into the restaurant, the aromas attacked my nose. I smelled various meats, fish, and fried foods in this place. Man, it reminds me of home. My Mom and aunts cook the traditional Christmas Dinner, or more specifically, closer to my heart is dinner on Christmas Eve. 

I left home two days ago and was assigned this tiny spec of a base in the Midwest. I do not know anyone. I barely know the people I work with. I only met one person, and they are on leave till after the new year. The term skeleton crew is a severe understatement at the moment. I have no roommate in the barracks. I am alone, for the first time in my life, with no family, no friends, and no clue what to do.

It is Christmas Eve, and I love fish, so I called an Italian restaurant just off the base and ordered seven different fish appetizers. In my own way, I would celebrate the feast of the seven fishes. But not at a table with family and friends, no. In the dayroom of the barracks, watching TV. Alone. 

When I called the restaurant, they asked what I needed, and I told them to make an appetizer portion so I could have the seven fishes tonight. They were taken aback when I answered that I would be dining alone. They asked what I liked, and if I had any allergies, I said I love smelts and everything else, including eel. 

As I entered Mare Italiano’s restaurant, the hostess knew it was me. No one has ordered or stopped this late. After all, midnight mass begins in a little more than an hour. 

She handed me the box, yes, a box. There were nine styrofoam clamshells. 

“You must be Mario?” She said.

“I am. Thank you for doing this for me. I feel so out of place here.”

“When did you get to town?”

“Yesterday. Before the sun rose, it took me almost two hours to get to the base since the taxis were not running yet. All in all, I feel isolated. But, this meal should poke my spirits.”

“Let me tell you what you have. The chef gave you a few gifts. First off, you have fried smelts.”

“My favorite!”

“Mine too. You have a small lobster tail, which is good with drawn butter. You may need to warm it up before you eat—also Crab, Scallops, and a piece of eel. There is a shrimp pasta in garlic oil and angel hair pasta. The owner added some Baccalà for you. From her private stash, too!”

She smiled as I perked up. "I have not had Baccalà since my grandmother was alive."

She continued, “They had a lot of Zuppa di Pesce left over from the dinner rush and added that to your dinner. There are a few clams, mussels, and fried calamari.”

“Wait, that’s a lot more than seven?”

“I know. But they added what they could when they heard who it was for. Better than tossing it in the trash, right?”

“Definitely!” Mario was starting to feel better just hearing about his dinner.

A man and woman walked up to the hostess stand as she was telling me the fantastic meal I was about to have.

According to her nametag, the hostess, Maria, said, “These are the owners. Josey and Martin Calebrese.”

Mario shook hands with them. “This is going to be amazing. Thank you for this!” Mario paused a heartbeat and asked, “How much do I owe you?”

“Normally, the seven fishes would cost you $48 per person, but you are our last customer this year. We’re closed until January 2nd. Since that is way too many days to keep anything in the ice box, cooked or not, I am going to give you a special price,” She paused and looked at her husband, who gave a slight nod, “$20, and we will throw in a bottle of wine.”

Mario was overjoyed, “Here is the twenty, and another twenty for my amazing server.”

He handed Maria the money, and she smiled.

“Thank you all again, and I hope you have a wonderful time off and on holiday.”

He left the restaurant, and as he did, they turned off the lights on the overhang and the sign and locked the door.

He drove the few miles back to the base, and as he approached the gate, they stopped his car. The Security type walked up to his window, and he already had his Military ID out to get onto the base.

“Good evening. May I ask where you are coming from?” The guard was a dark-haired beauty. Mediterranean by heritage, it appeared.

“Sure. The Italian place a few minutes from here. Grabbed some carryout to bring back to the barracks.”

She got closer, trying to smell for adult beverages, “Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Do I smell fish?”

“You do. I got the last order of Christmas Eve dinner from them, and they threw in a bottle of wine.”

“Nice!” She accepted his ID card and looked it over. Handing it back to him, “You’re good to go. Enjoy your seven fishes.”

Mario put his foot on the brake to move the shifter into D but stopped as if he froze. He looked at her, “You must be Italian.” That’s when he noticed her nametag, OLIVARIA.

“I love that name. Sicilian?”

“Yep, you?”

“Yep. What time are you off shift?”

She eyed him just a little, “Five forty-five. Why?”

“I would like to have breakfast with you at the place just off the base,” He thumbed. She knew the place. 

“They are about the only place open tomorrow.” She thought for a second, “Sure. After debriefing, I can get there at about 6:30. I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good.”

“How long have you been at this base?”

He looked at his watch, “As of this moment, 41 hours. I don’t know anyone but you and Christmas Eve is more important than Christmas Day. I’ll be alone tonight. But at least we can be together for Christmas morning.”

“Where did you grow up?” She asked.

“Small area on the East Side of Cleveland, called Collinwood. You?”

“Collinwood. I loved going to the Feast at Holy Redeemer. I grew up in Murray Hill,” She smiled at him, “You’re holding up the line. Breakfast tomorrow morning at Denny’s. See you at 6:30 am. We can talk about Little Italy.”

“Excellent. See you in the morning.”

Mario was alone for the first holiday in his life. But he did feel a little better about it.

He parked in front of the barracks and entered the dayroom to enjoy his feast. Technically, he was not completely alone. There was a woman he saw yesterday when he arrived, but now she is passed out on a sofa. An empty bottle on the floor next to her.

He grabbed a spare blanket he saw close by and, covering her, went to the TV and flipped it on. As the TV came to life, he knew he was hooked on the movie already playing. The first word he heard was “FRA-GEE-LAY.”

It’s his favorite movie. He can relate to Ralphie. Not the shooting his eye out part, but in general. That movie was filmed at a house near where he grew up. Maybe 20 minutes in good weather, on West 11th Street. But he loved the movie and pulled the coffee table closer to use as a table for his fishes.

He started with the smelts, all six of them. He grabbed the lobster tail and the butter. No pomp, no circumstances, grab, dip, bite. Shrimp and linguini, clams and mussels. 

He ate most of the seafood but never opened the wine. He felt it should be shared and not drunk alone, so he put it in the fridge in his room and finished watching the movie.

He sat there a minute when it ended, and It’s a Wonderful Life started. It was a good movie, but he was already depressed. Being in an empty dayroom alone made for one interesting holiday. It’s the happiest time of the year, but he just ain’t feeling it right now. He cleaned up his containers and went to his room. He thought about watching TV or turning on the stereo but got ready for bed instead.

Mario sat on the edge of his bed and decided to call home. It was a little after eleven p.m. So, back home, they would be sitting around the table talking before heading to midnight mass. A five-minute walk.

He went to the pay phone in the stairwell and called, dropping in a few quarters. His sister answered, but it was hard to hear. The voices were all loud, and everyone seemed to be talking simultaneously, which he missed.

He had no idea what anyone was saying. Someone hung up the phone. He stood there a few minutes, the depression weighing heavy. He slowly walked back to his room.

Closing his door, he sat on the bed again. He had never felt this alone in his life. He had no one to talk to or visit because almost everyone was home on leave. He sat in the dayroom for a few hours watching that movie and eating his dinner, but he saw no one. Except for the woman who passed out on the couch, he has not seen anyone since he arrived on the base. He was beginning to feel sad, depressed, isolated, and alone.

He had the wine from the restaurant. Would that help?

Maybe for a minute. He stood, shut off the light, and crawled into bed. After a few minutes, he fell asleep and dreamed he was in a round room, all flat gray. The walls, ceiling, and floors were all the same dull color. There were no doors, windows, or furniture. He ran around it like something was supposed to change. Then he came to a stop.

In the back of his mind, he remembered that solitude is temporary. He realized he was asleep. Then someone appeared in the gray room, the cop he met at the gate. The room turned into a booth at Denny’s, and he awoke abruptly.

Looking at his alarm clock, he realized it was five forty-five. He got up, still feeling heavy with the depression from the dream, but thankfully, it was leaving his mind. 

He took a shower, brushed his teeth, and shaved. He had a Christmas morning date.

All dressed and about to walk out to his car, he had a thought. Reaching into his wall locker, he grabbed a gift that was already wrapped. It was for his sister. He could get her another gift and send it later in the week, but he needed to give it to the cop. He needs to learn her first name. Calling her Olivaria sounds wrong.

He walked into the restaurant and was told to sit anywhere. They just changed shifts, so the morning shift prepared things for the morning. He found a booth, and a server brought over a carafe of coffee. Flipping over the coffee cup in front of him, he poured himself a cup and waited.

She walked in.

Mario stood and greeted her. Shaking hands, they sat, and he poured her a coffee. She was dressed nicely in jeans and a sweater—quite a different look from how they had met. She introduced herself as Janet, Janet Olivaria.

He told her his name was Mario Casselerri. She smiled, “I read that last night on your ID.”

Mario laughed and asked, “You look nice. How was the rest of your shift?” He asked.

“Quiet. I had someone stop at the gate who had a bit to drink. My partner took care of him.”

“DUI?”

“Yes, and no. He took him back to his barracks, and we left his car in the parking area at the gate. Giving someone a DUI on Christmas didn’t sound like a good gift. Don’t let on that we did that. Some people would not be happy.”

They spoke for a few minutes, and Mario handed her the gift. As she opened it, she had tears in her eyes—a beautiful pair of gloves and a winter hat. 

She stood and walked around the table, grabbing him in an embrace.

He said, “It’s not that great!”

“No, it is. Until you invited me here to breakfast, I had a different plan for this morning,” she paused momentarily. She was thankful the server stayed away and was happy they were prepping the counter. “I planned to kill myself today." She stopped and stared at him. Her eyes were wet.

"I am alone also, but really alone. I have no family, very few people, if any, I can call a friend. I had nothing to live for aside from my work. But your kindness pulled me out of that isolation. After we talked, the feelings of loneliness somewhat went away. I felt slightly better after you left and knew I needed to meet you here. I normally volunteer to take all the holiday shifts because I have no place to go, no one to see, nothing. In this universe, I am alone.”

Mario paused a moment and stared into her eyes. He then placed his hand on her hand, which was resting on the table. 

“I felt the loneliness and isolation last night. I felt sorry for myself because my family survived just fine without me. I also started having those thoughts, and the idea of breakfast with you kept moving my life forward. On this planet, right now, here, you are my world. I don’t mean that in any weird way. I mean it in the best way. We can be alone together.”

The server approached, and they ordered breakfast. It’s funny how they ordered nearly identical meals. They sat and talked for what seemed like hours.

The server approached the table and asked if there was anything else. 

“I could use a Dr. Pepper,” Mario said.

“Me too.”

“OK, sounds good,” She said, “I’ll be getting off in a bit. If you could take care of this tab, please, I can clear out my book.”

Mario looked at his watch, “Holy crap. We talked all morning. It’s almost time for lunch.”

Mario smiled at the server and grinned. He handed her $45, “This is for the tab. The rest is for you. Please send over the next shift and the lunch menus.”

She laughed. That was twice the amount of the tab.

“Merry Christmas!” She said to both of them.

Janet and Mario replied, “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Janet looked Mario in the eyes and smiled. She put her hand on his and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He replied to her.

“For saving my life. For understanding. For not letting me be alone. But most of all, for the best day or date I have had in many years.”

“Trust me when I say this," Mario replied, "... and don’t take it wrong. But I did see that you looked alone, and I was feeling very alone. I figured the best way for two lonely people not to feel alone is to be together. You are wonderful, and this is the best date I have ever been on. I cannot tell you when I considered sitting in a Denny’s sipping on coffee on a perfect day.”

“So,” She said, “Where is this heading?”

“Let’s find out together!”

The lunch menus appeared, and they ordered burgers, fries, and tater tots for Mario. They both also ordered a salad with vinegar and oil.

“I like dipping my bread in the drippings after I eat my salad,” Janet said.

“So do I. Learned it from my family.”

Mario looked as if he had something to say.

Janet said, “OK, spit it out. I see you want to say something.”

“Maybe I can take you to my family’s celebration next Christmas Eve.”

A large smile crossed Janet’s face, “That sounds like something to live for!” 

They held hands until the food arrived.