So after a movie at the Arclight Hollywood, Lenspeaks and I escalated and ambled into the in-house eatery. It was pretty empty tonight unlike most Saturdays, no doubt due to televised games and Halloween Pre-parties so I had a clear view of the table next to us. In between bites of my salad and sips of sparkling white wine, I glanced over to a scene out of Citizen Kane, the one of the anti-hero and his wife sharing a silent dinner of cold contempt--before the table got longer and longer. I had the impression my non-celluloid couple were well to do, something about his crisp blazer and starched open at the neck shirt and the way she ate the grapes from her cheese plate spoke "slumming from Bel Air". They said not a word for at least the twenty or more minutes I observed them. He dipped his chips in salsa with a smirk and she posited her hair behind her ear non-chalantly with one hand, while switching to a nibble of an unseemingly large and drooping piece of brie--no cracker required.
Then, there was communication of sorts . He had been drinking coffee. She deliberately reached over to his side where he had placed his mug and swooped it to herself, cupping it with both hands but not yet drinking it. His body was now at an angle so that he no longer was facing her. She seemed disappointed by the sweetener selection but resigned to one.
And then, he gestured with two well manicured fingers a sign that it was time to leave, the check having been settled by him alone, a traditionalist he must be. And they left, in single file, ample space between them.
Surely, these two have separate bedrooms. Or will.
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