Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

"Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?”

That’s what the cocktail waitress was asking Torstein as our tent filled up with honored guests, each clutching their ticket for a $5 bill after dinner.

Torstein laughed, offered her some sunflower seeds and said:

“I’m Torstein, and I think I’m paying people to have Thanksgiving dinner with me.”

Then the girl laughed, took a handful of sunflower seeds and said, “I like you, Torstein. I get off work at one a.m. Will you still be here?”

“Heavens, no, I turn into a pumpkin at 10 o’clock,” he said. “But if you get into the city, come and find us. We’re usually at Patriots Park about 3 in the afternoon.”

“OK,” she said. “I just might.” She had a little wallet on a string around her neck, and she reached into it and pulled out a five dollar bill. “Here,” she said, putting it into Torstein’s hand. One of these guys you’re paying to eat with you probably gave his last fiver to me.” She grinned, and started on her way.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Torstein called.

“Gotta get back to work!” she called back, and she waved as she clicked away on her high heels. She was already dressed in her cocktail waitress outfit, and she looked good walking away.

If Torstein had been a different guy, he could have had the women. They all liked him. And why? Like I say, he was built kind of like a gymnast, short and sort of muscular, but he just had straight black hair and a kind of prominent nose. He wasn’t so handsome, but he had that electric smile. Not to mention his electric coat.

We’d been setting up for hours. Sully had come along with us. He couldn’t go in the casinos, so he’d been put to work in the kitchen, and he was really pretty helpful for a small child. They had one of those safety can openers, and after Maggie showed him how to use it, he’d opened dozens of cans of corn and green beans. Phyllis had cooked up the green beans with bacon, and man, it smelled awesome. I think she’d cayenne’d up the corn because it had little red glints in it and it smelled spicy, too.

The turkeys had been donated whole and frozen. Pete and I, with Jack and Jazz, and both our dads, had fried dozens of them. It was a blast! Frying a turkey — you get this peanut oil heated up to 325, then lower the turkey in, and it cooks fast. Man, they were good, too. We’d none of us done this before, so we had to try the first one we did. It was delicious. Then we’d brought them all here to the mobile kitchen set up in the back of our tent, and we’d torn them to bits, taken all the meat off the bones and put it into huge chafing dishes to keep it warm.

The gravy we had to get canned. Frying a turkey doesn’t generate any grease you could use to make gravy, and even so there weren’t enough turkeys to make the gallons of gravy we anticipated needing. Again, Phyllis had thought up some ways to spice it up, including a bit of red wine and a little of the bacon fat from the green beans mixed in with it.

Bruiser had been able to borrow some of those outdoor heaters that people use on their patios, and we’d stationed them around the tent. They were doing a nice job, and it was pretty warm considering the cool night. We’d also set up a lot of lighting so everyone would be able to see each other and see what they were eating. I thought the place looked nice; for amateurs, we’d done a fine job.

Any adult who wasn’t working in the kitchen or getting the tables set, Torstein had sent into the casinos with tickets to our dinner.

“Don’t just hand them out willy-nilly,” he advised. “I want you to look for the sorriest, loneliest, most desperate people, and make sure they get a ticket. After that, if you have tickets left over, you can give them to whoever you want. And make sure you tell them, there’s no catch, OK? They eat dinner with me, they get five dollars.”

The ticket wasn’t a ticket to get into the tent; it was the ticket to get your five dollars. Ferdy was nervous as could be. He was pacing around the tent, doing absolutely no good to anyone. He had the cash box locked up in a little safe he’d brought with him, but he was certain this evening could only end in disaster.

Pete’s and my step-mom had made a big cash donation to this venture, and she was there in the kitchen helping prepare the meal. I was floored because she had family, and I thought for sure she and Dad would be tied up with them. But she had this soft spot for Torstein, and I think she thought this whole idea was a gas.

We’d decided to have our dinner at 8 p.m. We figured all the worst gamblers would be broke and desperate about then. They started straggling in about 7:30. Torstein was greeting people at the door — well, at the opening to the tent. Marigold and Tawny were the hostesses, they showed people to their seats at a table. Torstein wanted one of us to be responsible for every six or eight people, so when the ladies had seated a whole table, they would wave one of us over to come and welcome the guests. We didn’t actually have to take orders — except for drinks — because we only had one menu. The drinks were easy, just iced tea, water or Kool-Aid. Even those of us who had never been waiters could handle that.

The folks who came in were a little uneasy. I think they still thought there was some catch. Some were a bit tipsy, too. The casino had been feeding them free drinks all day, I imagine. Some were in little groups, but a lot of them were alone. Those were the people I think Torstein had in mind when he dreamed all this up, really. Most were guys, but there were a few ladies on their own, too. Nobody looked desperately poor or homeless. What would a desperately poor person be doing at a casino? But a lot of them looked depressed, and a few looked shell-shocked.

I saw my dad sit down with the bunch at his table, and put his arm around an old guy who seemed to be crying. He was probably a little drunk. But I was proud of my pop. He was always like Pete, a strong guy, an action figure. For him to sit down and put his arm around some stranger’s shoulders, that was pretty cool.

We waited until about 10 after 8. We’d set up the tent to accommodate 500 people. We really had no idea how many would come. I would say it was half full. There were 250 desperate gamblers with nowhere to be on Thanksgiving Day. Torstein stepped up to the little dais we’d made for him with a podium and a microphone.

“I don’t usually make speeches, and I will make this one short,” he said. “My name is Torstein, and I don’t have much family. I didn’t want to be alone on Thanksgiving Day, and I thought, how can I get some people to have Thanksgiving dinner with me? I’m not proud, so I decided I’d pay people to have dinner with me. So, you’re my honored guest. After you enjoy your meal, you can just take your ticket over to Ferdy there by the door, and he’ll give you your five dollars for joining me. Thank you for coming! Enjoy your food.” Then he showed his hands like a retiring dealer, clapped them together and called, “Good luck!”