For all her grace in movement on the bar, she was loud and clunky in other areas. Every scoop of food clanged loudly against the serving dish. Every bowl was set down with a thud.
She frowned when she looked at me. “Now what?”
“Try to make as little noise as possible.”
“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all.
“What did you do today?” I asked watching as she stuck her gum from her mouth on the edge of her plate.
“Worked on a new routine.” Her frown grew as she stared down at the cutlery. “Shit, er, I mean, cluck, I mean, ugh! Ford, what fork should I use?”
“Always start from the outside and move in. The far left fork is for salad.”
“’Kay.” She frowned again. “I’m not having salad.”
“At a formal dinner, they would likely bring out courses and clear the cutlery associated with it. Also, don’t chew gum. Ever.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes.
“Sit up.”
“Oh.”
“Elbows off the table.”
“For crying out loud.”
“No talk of religion or politics, or anything crass.”
“So, I shouldn’t tell you about the mysterious stain I found in the bathroom of the G-Spot?” The tines of her fork audibly grazed her teeth as she took a bite with a grin.
“No.” I made a show of setting my knife along the top edge of the plate when I wasn’t using it. “What are your thoughts on closed-access academic journals and the business of publishing in academia?”
Suzie piled a mouthful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “Wha—?”
I closed my eyes and counted backward from ten. “Please don’t speak with food in your mouth. Also, there’s no rush. Take your time, taking small bites so you can still talk if you need to.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to eat. I’m used to cramming in meals between sets.”
“Conversation is critical to good table manners. You have to learn to keep it flowing easily so that everybody feels included.”
“Is that why you’re such a Chatty Charlie all of a sudden?”
I nodded once.
“Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, but I did hear something juicy about Jackson James.”
“I don’t know who that is. Is he a friend of yours?”
This time Suzie blinked at me like I spoke around a mouthful of food. She set her fork and knife down, and to her credit she did so as gently as she’d seen me do. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“Ford, what’s the point of all this? I’ll never be able to hang in a conversation with people like you. The only current events I know revolve around Green Valley. I know about hair and makeup and shit, er, stuff you don’t care about. We’re from different worlds.”
Though she spoke with anger, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes kept shifting to the side. I never meant to embarrass her. I set my silverware down as well.
“People are universal. You don’t have to over think it. The truth is, you don’t need to know much. Most people inherently want to discuss themselves. When in doubt, just ask people about their lives. Surface things, career things. You don’t want to accidentally tread on toes or have them feel like they’re being interviewed, but simple questions get them talking.”
She looked up to the side and thought. “I can do that. I actually do that all the time when I’m working the floor for better tips. You wouldn’t believe the stuff these guys want to get off their chests. I have heard some things over the years.” She shook her head like she was trying to free them from her mind.
