One time in New Orleans

I'm going to do something a little different in this post. I'm going to share a small scene frommy upcoming novel 'The Love Frog.' The scene is subject to change during the editing process, but at the moment this is how it exists. Now, I've mentioned this novel before in a few previous posts, but just as a refresher, or to the millions of new readers that haven't heard. 'The Love Frog,' is my wife Victoria, and my true love story.After the exerpt, I'll talk briefly about what was going on in the scene. I'll do this with any posts of this kind going forward. With that said here we go. ***I never saw an option for size when it came to the milkshakes. Like the breakfast portions, these were on the larger than large side of sizes. Two glasses shaped like physical manifestations of a crescendo were placed before Victoria and I. Each was filled with a light chocolaty mixture. A cloud of whipped cream sporting a cherry crown sat atop each glass. Victoria smiled. I took my glass. Victoria took hers. We clinked the rims together and took our first sip. It was cold, creamy and sweet, generally what I’d expect from a milkshake. It was good, but not mind boggling, which I suppose is a unfair expectation of anything. I looked to Victoria. She smiled with a hint of a whipped cream mustache. She looked to me and then around the restaurant. Her eyes moved from place to place, lingering in some spots more than others. Her eyes moved back to her milkshake. She raised it for a second drink. I did the same. It tasted better the second time. Before I had completely pulled it from my lips I peered out the window and caught a glimpse of an old white haired man crossing the street. A gray haired woman clutched his arm as she crossed alongside him. I coughed and struggled to contain the milkshake in my mouth. My chest tightened. The elderly couple took another step. ***I saw a green and white house at the end of a dirt driveway. A large pond rested a few yards from the house with a clean wooden dock stretching a good ways in. A cow lay beneath a tree at the far side of the pond. Its name was Gale. The elderly man sat at the head of a large farm-style table. He asked me to pass the corn. His wife, the gray haired lady, could be seen in the kitchen just beyond. She had just finished placing the ensemble of pies she’d baked early that morning along the counter which overlooked the dining room.***Maybe they’ll move on, I thought as the couple finished crossing the street. I hoped they were headed to the shops further up the road. I wasn’t so lucky. The front door opened. Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson walked in. The same Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson from the middle of nowhere Texas walked into the Camellia Grille in New Orleans. Two others followed. I hadn’t seen them before. An older man dressed in maroon, and who I assumed to be his son, dressed similarly and was I guessed to be in his late twenties. I held my milkshake close like a masquerade mask. How am I going to get out of here without them seeing me? I thought. Then the Sanderson’s and their friends sat down next to Victoria and I. Shit, I thought. I exchanged my milkshake mask for a nearby menu, a more believable disguise as I could only chug an empty glass for so long before people became suspicious. I began running through escape plans. Luckily I’d already asked for the check when our milkshakes were delivered. I also had a mean five o’clock shadow, more than I’d ever had while the Sanderson’s had known me. Perhaps that would give me the five seconds I needed to pay the tab and get Victoria and I out the door. We’d parked right out front. “Did you go to A&M?” I hear come from the seat to my immediate right. The pieces of my makeshift plan crumbled and crashed upon the floor. “Davis, they went to A&M!” Victoria exclaimed. I lower my menu mask. I extend my hand to Victoria’s new friend, the youngest member of the Sanderson’s group (I don’t recall the boy's name.)Mr. Sanderson and I made eye contact. I introduced Victoria. The elderly couple and I exchanged hugs. We engaged in pleasantries without going into too much detail. I wanted it to remain pleasant after all. The check came. I paid it. After a solid five minutes of conversation I bid them farewell and Victoria and I made our way to the car.“How did you know them?” Victoria asked. I almost laughed before cluing her in. “Those are my ex-fiance’s grandparents.”***Victoria and I celebrated our first anniversary together in New Orleans. We weren't married then, but I'd already begun drawing plans of an engagement. At the time this was somewhat terrifying. But, in hindsight, I love the idea of my soon to be fiance/wife unknowingly inviting the family of my ex-fiance to essentially eat with us. It's especially funny, because Victoria is generally an introvert. It's not usual for her to start up a conversation with a complete stranger. She did it for my benefit, which is sweet.It just so happened that one time she initiated conversation, it happened to be with someone I was actively trying to avoid.