Clam Chowder

Olsen Donahue pulled into Richard’s driveway a little past 3am on a Friday. He was on the road from Portland, OR to San Diego, CA. Richard was Olsen’s cousin. Olsen was coming into town for his Aunt Anne’s wedding. Her third marriage. Olsen was still a bachelor. Richard had a wife. Only one. Her name was Beverly. She was asleep in their bedroom.

“Well, howdy!” Richard yells as Olsen’s 89 Honda Accord pulls up the gravel path.

“Hey, cousin!”

Olsen gets out of the car and they exchange hugs and smiles.

“Come on in. I left some soup out for you if you’re hungry. Clam chowder”

“Thank you”

“I’ll get your bag”

They walk into Richard’s kitchen.

“You like clam chowder, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I love it”

“Bev was afraid you didn’t eat meat anymore”

“Well, I eat fish still. No red meat though”

“No red meat? No steaks? Boy, you must be a cheap date!”

The men laugh together under the dim light of Richard’s kitchen.

“I made a bed for you out on the porch if you want. It’s a nice night. I’m sure you don’t get stars like this out in the city”

“We sure don’t”

Richard lights a cigarette and the smoke drifts up to the ceiling.

“The soup’s up there on the stove if you want some”

“Thanks, cousin”

The t.v. in the living room is playing an old movie from the 40s. A film noir. The sound of gun fire blares from the t.v.

“Damn. That shit is loud” yells Richard.

The two men continue to sit there and talk and eat soup and smoke cigarettes until the sun comes up.