CREEK ROAD GANG
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Melon, Coffee and Coke
A Papa and Eva Story
by Kate Lydon
Melon, Coffee and Coke is one of a continuing series of stories Kate Lydon is writing about weekend visits with her grandparents, whose shared hobby was arguing. For the first of the series, see "Visiting Papa and Eva" from the September 2009 issue.
One Saturday morning when he was not going to the racetrack, Papa went out after our lengthy breakfast to pick up a racing paper. He returned about an hour later, with the paper to be sure, but also carrying a large melon. "Eva! Look what I got!" he called as he came from the garden into their living room. "The Giant was having a sale on honeydew!"
Eva, who had been watering her jungle of houseplants near the sliding glass doors, looked up in dismay. "Oh, Pat! What on earth am I going to do with that?"
"What are you going to do with it?" Papa asked. "I don't care about what you do with it! I'm going to eat it!"
"Let me see it!" She grabbed the melon out of his hands, tapped it, shook it, and sniffed at it. "Pat, this melon is ripe!" she said accusingly. "We'll have to use it right away!"
"Of course it's ripe, darling," Papa said, grabbing it back from her. "I know how to pick a ripe melon! It's perfect! I'm going to cut a piece right now!"
"Darn it, Pat! I just finished cleaning the kitchen!" Eva said. "I haven't even had time to get dressed yet!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Papa said. "Get dressed whenever you want! Change your clothing a dozen times if you like! I can cut a melon myself!"
"You'll make a mess of everything!" she complained. "And who will put it away? I can't imagine where we'll put it!"
"She can't imagine where we'll put it!" Papa boomed.
"We'll put it in the refrigerator! Where else would we put it?"
"He has no idea of the problems he causes!" Eva told me, as they moved the argument into the kitchen.
"The problems I cause!" Papa placed the melon on the kitchen table. "I bring her a beautiful melon, and I'm causing problems!"
"Every time he goes to the Giant, he does this!" Eva opened the pantry door. "They shouldn't let him loose in a supermarket! Look at all the stewed tomatoes we have! He bought twelve cans last week!"
"They were on sale!" Papa said. "It was a bargain! You don't have to use them all at once!"
"I had to stack them on the pantry floor! Now I don't have enough room for anything else!" she muttered. "I can't imagine where I'll put that melon!"
Papa, meanwhile, had got out the big wooden cutting board, a large knife and was reaching for plates. "Who wants some melon?" he asked.
"You'll spoil your appetite for lunch!" Eva said, as he began slicing into the melon.
"None for me right now," I said. I was still feeling overly full from the ample portions of the delicious breakfast that Eva had made us.
"Just cut me a little piece, Pat," Eva told him. "Well, a little bigger than that!"
But it was after they finished the melon snack that the real challenge was on. When Eva opened the refrigerator, it didn't seem possible that any more food could be stored therein. "Oh, darn!" she said. "I'll have to repack something!"
Eva, who had been watering her jungle of houseplants near the sliding glass doors, looked up in dismay. "Oh, Pat! What on earth am I going to do with that?"
"What are you going to do with it?" Papa asked. "I don't care about what you do with it! I'm going to eat it!"
"Let me see it!" She grabbed the melon out of his hands, tapped it, shook it, and sniffed at it. "Pat, this melon is ripe!" she said accusingly. "We'll have to use it right away!"
"Of course it's ripe, darling," Papa said, grabbing it back from her. "I know how to pick a ripe melon! It's perfect! I'm going to cut a piece right now!"
"Darn it, Pat! I just finished cleaning the kitchen!" Eva said. "I haven't even had time to get dressed yet!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Papa said. "Get dressed whenever you want! Change your clothing a dozen times if you like! I can cut a melon myself!"
"You'll make a mess of everything!" she complained. "And who will put it away? I can't imagine where we'll put it!"
"She can't imagine where we'll put it!" Papa boomed.
"We'll put it in the refrigerator! Where else would we put it?"
"He has no idea of the problems he causes!" Eva told me, as they moved the argument into the kitchen.
"The problems I cause!" Papa placed the melon on the kitchen table. "I bring her a beautiful melon, and I'm causing problems!"
"Every time he goes to the Giant, he does this!" Eva opened the pantry door. "They shouldn't let him loose in a supermarket! Look at all the stewed tomatoes we have! He bought twelve cans last week!"
"They were on sale!" Papa said. "It was a bargain! You don't have to use them all at once!"
"I had to stack them on the pantry floor! Now I don't have enough room for anything else!" she muttered. "I can't imagine where I'll put that melon!"
Papa, meanwhile, had got out the big wooden cutting board, a large knife and was reaching for plates. "Who wants some melon?" he asked.
"You'll spoil your appetite for lunch!" Eva said, as he began slicing into the melon.
"None for me right now," I said. I was still feeling overly full from the ample portions of the delicious breakfast that Eva had made us.
"Just cut me a little piece, Pat," Eva told him. "Well, a little bigger than that!"
But it was after they finished the melon snack that the real challenge was on. When Eva opened the refrigerator, it didn't seem possible that any more food could be stored therein. "Oh, darn!" she said. "I'll have to repack something!"
She pulled out several containers and jammed their contents into still smaller containers, rearranged two shelves, and began slicing and wrapping the remaining melon. I can't say how she did it, but she managed to fit every bit of it into that overstuffed refrigerator, although she did push us to eat more honeydew at every meal that weekend.
I never saw their refrigerator when it wasn't packed to the gills. Eva would always choose the smallest possible container in which to pack any leftover, and she never threw away a thing, even if that caused her to have to eat another forkful or two of whatever she was putting away. She had a vast store of containers and odd jars which I would have to reach down for her after meals. No matter that there didn't seem to be a smidgeon of empty space in that refrigerator! Eva would magically manage to fit in still more food.
Despite her impressive talent, I wasn't altogether happy about Eva saving everything. She and Papa both drank coffee with every meal, and with most snacks too. When they were finished, Eva would pour the leftover coffee, residue of grounds and all, into a jar and store it in the refrigerator for later use. I was surprised one time when Eva gave me a cup of leftover coffee. At my first sip, I discovered the sweetness and aftertaste of saccharine in my cup. It turned out that if she and Papa, who both took their coffee black with saccharine added, left any coffee in their cups at the end of a meal, she'd add that to the mix in the glass jar too, guests or no.
Several months later, my youngest brother Joey and his girlfriend Maria, then both around 20, came to Philadelphia to visit me. We had plans to travel to Laurel for a weekend with Papa and Eva.
Eva had been very excited about the proposed visit. She consulted with me in advance about the menu. She viewed my family as very fussy and provincial about food, and she was making an extra effort to provide something pedestrian enough for us.
"They don't drink coffee," I warned Eva.
"They don't drink coffee!" she exclaimed. "What do they drink?"
"Maria drinks a lot of Coke," I said. "Joey too, I think."
"Well, your Poppa and I drink pop too," she said. "I always have pop on hand!"
"They don't drink the kind with artificial sweetener," I added.
"People are picky about the most foolish things!" Eva said. "I guess I'll have to get some of the sugary cola! And I suppose they like their food plain. Your family never has much imagination with food! I'll just have to make a meatloaf for Saturday and a ham for Sunday. That should be plain enough."
When I drove Joey and Maria to Laurel for the weekend, Eva was prepared as always with a barrage of food, as well as some 2-liter bottles of Coke. She poured tall, ice-filled glasses of soda for each of them, and encouraged them to have more with the cake and sweets she provided at the end of the meal.
Maria, who was shy but eager to please her boyfriend's family, had met Papa and Eva before when they had visited in Massachusetts. She was clearly intimidated by both. Eva proceeded to bark orders and to grill the poor girl about what type of food her family ate at home, and how they prepared it. The more Eva came at her, the more Maria retreated into a nervous silence.
After we ate, Joey and Maria went out for a walk, while I helped Eva pack away the leftovers. "She's awfully quiet," Eva said. "Is she always like that?"
"She's just shy, " I said.
"Maybe she's afraid of us, darling," Papa suggested.
"Well, I can't see why!" Eva said. "We're very friendly!"
"She's young," Papa said.
"Well, I wasn't so quiet like that when I was young," Eva said. "And they don't even drink coffee!" she added, as she poured the remainder of the Coke into a jar to be stored away in the refrigerator. Over the course of the visit, in an effort to conserve refrigerator space, Eva would pour Coke from container to container, losing more carbonation each of the many times she did so.
The next evening, as Eva was readying another meal for us, Maria quietly and bravely offered to help.
"You can pour pop for Joey and yourself," Eva said, handing her a jar from the refrigerator.
When Eva turned back to what she was doing, Maria looked at the jar, which showed no signs of remaining carbonation, rolled her eyes at me, shrugged, and began to pour. She filled one glass, but only got half way in filling the second.
"Excuse me, Eva," Maria said, "but there's not enough left in the jar for two glasses."
"Oh, darn! I guess we'll have to open another bottle! I don't know how I'll ever manage to fit it into the refrigerator! Well, get the bottle out of the pantry, Maria!" she barked, gesturing at the pantry door.
Maria meekly retrieved the bottle and proceeded to fill the second glass.
All was well until we sat down to eat.
Maria took a big sip of her drink and began to choke. Holding her napkin against her mouth, she gagged.
"What's the matter, Maria?" Joey said, smacking her sharply on the back.
"What is it?" Papa asked. "Is she all right?"
"There's something wrong with this," Maria managed to gasp, pointing to her glass.
"Something wrong with it!" Eva exclaimed.
"What do you mean, there's something wrong?" Joey demanded. He grabbed her glass and took a big gulp, which he promptly spit into his own napkin. "There's coffee grounds in her Coke," he said. "It tastes like Coke mixed with coffee!" He picked up his own glass and sipped. "Mine tastes like it's all coffee, but it's sweet."
"Oh, no! You used the wrong jar, Maria!" Eva said. "Darn it! Now all that leftover coffee is wasted!"
copyright Kate Lydon
* * *
Kate Lydon is
a storyteller, writer and editor who also hires out as an adjunct
professor. She grew up along the rocky coast of Massachusetts, but has
lived most of her life amid the trees of Pennsylvania. Daughter of a
man who made the best donuts in the world and a woman who acted out
Macbeth and read poetry for her children, Kate is the oldest of five,
and thus is prone to giving advice. However, her husband, two children,
two cats and one dog, independent souls all, pay scant attention, and
so she writes. Kate’s
satirical murder mystery, Off
Center, is now available through Amazon’s Kindle Store. She is currently working on another novel, as well as a book of stories about Papa and Eva.
