high tea in Roswell, New Mexico

high tea in Roswell, New Mexico

fiction
edward w pritchard

It was exactly at that moment staring across the table in the sad little restaurant at the wife Odetta that I realized I had never seen the girl dance the Charleston and as I listened to her litany listing her complaints about our marriage I realized I never would see Odetta dance the Charleston or anything else again.

Our marriage was over, the get away vacation was ruined and as we sat 1508 miles from our Home the prospect of finishing the $79.95 formal late afternoon high tea at the recently renovated Le Meurice diner in downtown Roswell, New Mexico seemed daunting and overwhelming to me wanting only to jump through the smudged plate glass window and race back to anywhere.

Still the owner of the Restaurant and his daughter Mosely Anne rushed back and forth from the dank kitchen bringing tray after tray of assorted Ritz crackers with Kraft American sliced cheeses or small dixie cups containing one grape, two walnuts and a pecan all the while smiling and bowing obsequiously to us the only two customers in their struggling establishment.

Odetta looked tired, she never slept well on planes. I carried a small backpack with a dozen or more brochures from the triple A of highlights of the scenery and museums we had hoped to explore over the next few days about New Mexico.

As Odetta droned on about my faults and shortcomings I recalled the Charleston originated in 1923 and could be performed solo or with a partner it's simple basic steps making it easy to improvise and develop new forms to keep the genre dance exciting and interesting.

The water cress sandwiches and finger foods were so so but hot tea is always comforting.