Dinner at Riverwalk

Seated comfortably within the cavernous confines of the limousine, Crystal Jordan allowed herself to be enveloped into a world of sumptuous, luxurious opulence and comfort. This was a world she had never known before but secretly and often wished. Despite having been a full-time counselor for the past 10 years at Robert Lewis Stevenson Junior High for the rich and gifted; she knew she could never have afforded such magnificence; no matter how much overtime, she put in at school. Inhaling deeply the heady fragrance of the Napa Leather it gave a slightly lightheaded moment that she enjoyed.

Settling back into the bench style seat she sank into its soft depth allowing it to wrap itself around her 5’ 4’ frame like a gentle cocoon. The overall environment of the interior is adorned with ambient lighting that creates a soothing and romantic atmosphere. A bar stretching the width of the car is filled with a chilling station, assorted alcohol bottles, and various sized glasses for everything from port to champagne. A covered warming station holds a tray of various delectable-looking finger foods. Soft easy music plays from hidden speakers enchantment of the moment while allowing the passenger to relax while their thoughts drifted away to some foreign shore. Crystal decided a flute of champagne was in order to celebrate this auspicious occasion.

As the limo quietly and gracefully navigated through the bustling city, she gazed out of the slightly tinted windows, watching the streets and people as they plod along, living their daily lives, happy that for one night she would not be among them.

A smile crept across her face, for once in her life, she was living the dream her dream. Crystal's excitement grew exponentially with each passing second, her heart fluttering with anticipation for the special evening that lay ahead.

Resting her head against the supple leather seat, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to the moment when “her limo” had arrived. That very first moment when she saw the gleaming black limousine pull up in front of her ancient and dreary Bronx apartment building and she realized this car had come just for her. 

She nodded slightly remembering the moment a middle-aged woman looking trim and professional in her all-black chauffeur uniform, jumped out of the car and ran around to Crystal’s side. The chauffeur opened the door and helped her into the car. Before closing the door, she leaned in and said, “Mrs. Elbridge requested hors d'oeuvres and excellent champagne be made available for your pleasure.” The chauffeur continued without pause, “We will be arriving at our destination, the restaurant in Riverwalk, in about an hour because of the 5'clock traffic."

Crystal nodded, unsure what to say next the chauffeur closed the door quickly circled around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and started the engine, so quiet that its hum could barely be heard. She then raised the partition between her and Crystal giving her privacy. As the traffic light ahead turned green, the car seamlessly merged into the rush hour traffic.

Crystal’s thoughts drifted to her posh dinner date with the elderly and long-time widowed, Mrs. Eldridge. Tonight marked their first-ever face-to-face meeting. Her brown eyes rolled up towards the car ceiling as once again, she silently thanked her lucky stars for picking up the newspaper on that Tuesday morning two years ago. An intriguing article discussed American seniors and elderly people living in foreign countries around the world who desired a pen pal in America.

With uncertainty about the outcome, Crystal reached out to the website, making a request for a pen pal. As a security precaution, all pen pal mail was first sent directly to the website’s mailing address. The return addresses were deleted, and the mail was then forwarded to the recipients. The nominal cost of a few dollars per month was well worth theminimal expense for such a service that offered companionship and security.

Among the responses she had to her surprise received, Mrs. Eldridge was the first to answer Crystal's initial communication. In her correspondence, she mentioned that she had been married for over 52 years. Her husband had been a businessman tasked with managing a plant in New Delhi on behalf of an American firm. While he stayed and retired in India, he had passed away from cancer twelve years prior.

Faced with the decision to remain in India, where she had lived much of her life and amassed wonderful memories, or return to her hometown in Poughkeepsie, New York, where she was born, Mrs. Eldridge chose to stay in India where as she stated in her letters “her life was.” She resolved to visit the United States every three years to maintain her connection with her roots.  

Mrs. Eldridge wrote about the beautiful old, restored mansion outside New Delhi where she and her husband had bought and had lived for most of their marriage. Her letters were full of mirth, funny stories about her life and the kind, interesting people who filled her days.

Over the past two years, Mrs. Eldridge and Crystal's affection for each other had grown. As a sign of endearment, Mrs. Eldridge became Mrs. E to Crystal; in response, Mrs. E. began her letters to Crystal with "Hello, My dear Pen Pal."

Although Mrs. E. never revealed her age, Crystal inferred from the historical events Mrs. E. shared that she had to be at least 80 or older. Without having seen a picture of Mrs. E., Crystal had no way of knowing whether she looked her age or not. Crystal had imagined her often, she would be tall, well built, strong as she was still active in easy sports as she called them, with dark blond hair she wore up in a French roll or a bun at her nape, long fingers as playing the piano. Crystal surmised that she was a very stylish dresser. Mrs. E. mentioned that she was fortunate enough to be able to live a very comfortable lifestyle. She also casually mentioned she maintained her long gone parents home in Poughkeepsie, New York.

Staring out the car window, the landscape became more industrial as they left the urban metropolis streets, finally entering the Sprain Brook Highway on-ramp leading to the Taconic State Parkway and her final destination in Riverwalk.

A thought occurred, causing Crystal to stop mid-sip of champagne: What if Mrs. E. were to ask her to visit New Delhi and perhaps stay in her mansion? The dream was very enticing. The idea gave Crystal pause, and her mind started racing with questions. She had another month as an elementary school counselor in the Bronx. Would her school allow her to leave before the end of the term? In her mind, she began answering her own questions; of course, the principal would let her go. It was May, and school would be out for the summer in a few weeks. The prospect of maybe going on an adventure sounded terribly exciting, especially after having been cooped up from COVID-19 during the past three years.

Crystal poured more champagne into her nearly empty flute nearly draining it in one draft. For a moment, she wondered how much it would cost to take such a trip. She giggled, thinking that for an opportunity such as that, she would find the money. Taking another healthy sip, her thoughts drifted back to Mrs. E and how much she was looking forward to meeting her that night.

With each mile of the freeway, the smooth, quiet ride left Crystal unable to think clearly. Her eyes became heavy, and without realizing it, they closed. Her head rolled back onto the seat, and the empty champagne flute slipped from her hand, landing on the deep carpeted floor without a sound

Crystal awoke abruptly from a deep slumber, surrounded by darkness. She lay prone on the seat of the limo, her senses dazed and drifting. As her mind cleared, she asked herself, “Why was the car dark?” She could feel a softness surrounding her body, the limo’s air conditioner running. “Where did she get the blanket from? Who covered me?” 

Sluggishly, her mind began to rid itself of the confusion of deep sleep. She had a monster of a headache. She recalled having two or was it three glasses of champagne. She promised herself never to drink again. With great effort, she pulled herself upright. The soft blanket that had covered her fell away, dropping to the floor. 

She forced herself to remember where she was: in a limo, en route to a dinner with Mrs. E. This reminder grounded her, dispelling the notion that she was on the brink of insanity. 

As her thoughts and blurred vision gradually cleared, she felt a twinge deep in her gut—a sense that something was very wrong. Sitting upright, her eyes darted to the area in front of her, and she heard her own voice shaking slightly, “Where is the champagne? Where is the warmer?”

Her head snapped to the side, leaning toward the windows. A sudden realization hit her like a heavy, dark weight—this wasn’t the same car. Her body tingled with fear; she realized that she was not in the same car that had picked her up from her Bronx apartment. This vehicle resembled a New York taxi cab, but with blackened windows that prevented her from seeing outside. Panic began to rise; she lowered her head between her knees, attempting to control her breathing. 

Lifting her head, she cried out, "What is happening?" Leaning forward, she balled her fist and began pounding on the partition. "Hey, open up!" Her breathing grew labored as fear coursed through her body and mind at an alarming pace.

“I have to get out of here." Looking around for anything to break the glass, she took off her high-heeled shoe and began banging on the windows, pounding with all her might until her arms hurt and exhaustion forced her into her seat. Who was driving the car? She realized she had to find a way out now!

Her eyes grew wide as suddenly the black glass partition slowly descended. The car's overhead dome light popped on illuminated the front and back seats with a soft, white glow. She saw the back of a bald man's head; he was alone in the front seat. “Where is my chauffeur?” Her screams and outbursts, met with silence.

The man was alone in the front seat, he did not turn around but looked up into the rearview mirror, his heavy-lidded eyes dark and scary. He stared back at her and smiled revealing pink gums and several teeth missing.

She heard a voice, the same voice she heard when she spoke with Mrs. E just before leaving the house confirming their delight in finally meeting tonight. But it couldn’t be the voice was high pitched sounded like a woman’s voice Mrs. E's voice.

 "Hello, My dear Pen Pal!"

After he spoke he simply stared hard at hear. His gaze never wavered from her, suddenly the black partition began to rise slowly sealing her in the darkness of the back seat of the car.