* * * * *
26: “Dining Out with Ernie”
Since Ali’s father left, Ali’s mother started going out in the evening. Sometimes Caroline joined her friends from work and went dining and dancing. One evening Caroline introduced Ali to a gentleman named Ernie. He had white hair and a nice smile. Ali thought he looked like a nice grandpa. He immediately reached down and shook Ali’s hand saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you young lady. Your mother tells me you do well in school. Is that true?”
“Yes, pretty good----I like to read,” replied Ali a little shyly.
“Well, you’ll have to join your mother and me tonight and tell me about the books you like to read. I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about.”
They walked down 7th Avenue a couple of blocks to the Park Sheraton hotel. Just before going in the front door,
Ali pointed to the corner where a barbershop was located.
“I saw a man get shot there last month.”
“You saw a person under a white sheet, being put into an ambulance,” corrected her mother.
“I was coming home for lunch-----there were hundreds of people all around and a lot of policemen,” added Ali, recalling the crowds on that October day. It was like something you see in the movies, not in real life.
“Yes, I remember reading about that in the newspaper. So you were there? Pretty dangerous stuff. Never know what’s going to happen in this big city,” responded Ernie who had lived in New York City his whole life.
“Better move along, Honey. We’ll share the gory details with Ernie later, OK?,” said Ali’s mother, scooting Ali past the doorman and into the hotel lobby.
The hotel had the most wonderful restaurant. The nicest Ali had ever seen. Musicians in the restaurant played music like she heard that night on New Year’s Eve---jazz---she remembered her mother saying. The tablecloths were bright white and the waiters wore special black and white suits and bowed as they came to the table. Ali ordered spaghetti and meatballs.
“Honey why don’t you order something different for a change,” suggested her mother.
“But I like spaghetti and meatballs,” said Ali.
“The lady knows what she wants,” said Ernie to the waiter.
“And to drink?”
“A Coke” said Ali. Her mother rolled her eyes. Ali was so predictable.
“And for dessert tonight?” said the waiter.
“Let’s get a French Apple pie to take home later, said Ernie.
Ali loved apple pie, and a whole one to take home, that sounded wonderful. The dinner was delicious. There was a man who came around and took their photograph which Ernie later gave to Ali and her mother as a souvenir. Ernie even asked Ali to dance, but she shook her head emphatically no.
“Do you mind if your mother and I dance a little?” Ernie asked. No one had ever asked her permission like that before. She felt important.
“No, I don’t mind,” smiled Ali as Ernie and her mother stepped onto the dance floor and glided around smiling and laughing. Ernie was several inches shorter than Ali’s mother who everyone always said was “so tall, like a model.” Caroline’s long brown hair was quite a contrast to Ernie’s pure white hair. It was good to see her mother enjoying herself thought Ali. Later, Ernie and her mother walked Ali back to the Osgood and dropped her off. “Now don’t eat the entire pie while I’m gone, Ali,” said her mother. I’ll be back in a couple hours. You can have some apple pie, watch some television, brush your teeth and then go to bed, OK? If you need anything, go to Madame Fifi’s, across the hall.”
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Ali. We’ll have to do this again sometime,” added Ernie, shaking Ali’s hand once again.
Ali shut the door and locked it, and took the apple pie to the kitchen. This was one of the first times she had been left alone so late at night. It felt kind of funny to be alone in the apartment, but she wasn’t scared. Reynolds wasn’t there to annoy her. She could go to Madame Fifi’s if necessary. She settled in for the evening, opening her mother’s sofa bed in the living room, and turning on the television. She put on her pajama’s and sliced an extra large piece of pie, put it on a plate, grabbed a fork, and jumped in the sofa bed. Usually, if her mother was at home, they would watch a movie on the Late Show, but tonight she watched a man who reminded her of her father and made her laugh. His name was Steve Allen and he was telling jokes and playing the piano and singing. Ali looked out the window and thought how beautiful it was, especially when she turned off the lights in the living room. You could see lights out across the park and in people’s windows in other apartment buildings nearby. You could hear the cars honking way down below and sometimes the sirens of fire engines on 58th Street behind their apartment building would start wailing in the middle of the night.
When Caroline came home sometime after midnight, she found Ali sleeping in the sofa bed with an empty plate on the floor. The national anthem was playing on the television indicating the end of programming for the evening; Caroline leaned over and switched off the television.
“Mother, is that you,” asked Ali sleepily.
“Yes, Angel----now go back to sleep.” Caroline got ready for bed and slipped into the sofa bed alongside Ali.
“Did you have a good time tonight, mother?” asked Ali, only half-awake.
“Wonderful, Ernie and I could have danced all night, just like the song in “My Fair Lady.”
“That’s good,” said Ali as she dozed off to sleep next to her mother.